Silent Night
by Light In The Void
Summary: 19th century London. Christmas Eve. A young thief becomes the target of a cauchemar plot, causing a certain Santa Claus to dredge up decade-old memories he’d rather forget. It’s up to Noël and Rudolph to figure things out, but nothing is ever easy…
1. The Night Before Christmas

Hello everyone~! (^o^)v

This is a fanfic based on a one-shot called "Noel la Neige" and a four chapter manga called "Holy Glory" written by an author called Sichol=Bell. I really recommend reading them~ :D

**Disclaimer:** I do not and will never own any of the characters or plotline of either Holy Glory or Noel la Neige: they are the property of Sichol=Bell sensei. There are, however, quite a few OCs in this story, mainly because there's only four or five characters in the original manga.

**Warnings:** It's probably better if you have read the manga and one-shot, although if you haven't you'll still probably understand the plotline anyway. Assuming NLN takes place after HG, this fic takes place three years after the end of HG but before NLN.

**Special Thanks: **Firstly, a big thank you and virtual flowers go to Nanaga, who beta-ed this story for me and put up with all my endless ramblings on the subject xD; Secondly, thanks to Sichol=Bell sensei for writing such an awesome manga! Finally, a big thank you to all of you for taking the chance and following the link to this page ^^/

Hope you enjoy the story~!

**_oOoOoOoOoOo_**

_A __Holy Glory Fanfiction_  
**Silent Night**

_You can sense them, right?_  
_Like a faint stench upon the town._

_oOoOoOoOoOo_

_I had hope__d that I would never have to come here to fight ever again…_

Snowflakes fluttered in the winter breeze, dancing around each other joyfully as the wind caught them and tossed them still higher. Footsteps crunched through snow to the tiled roof beneath, their owner's sober expression a sharp contrast to the bustling gaiety of the city below. People still cheerfully wandered the many streets, not at all put off by the thin veil of white falling gently as they peered into shop windows or chatted with each other, their breath misting in white puffs. No-one looked up, and so not a soul noticed the watchers perched on the roof of a nearby house.

Dusk would fall soon; already the delicious smells of a roast dinner wafted up from a nearby chimney. One of the watchers – an odd-looking fellow who was slightly taller than his companion – eyed the chimney sideways, but the other did not move at all, frowning out at the city.

Nightfall was coming. The dangerous time.

Silver eyes surveyed the people milling below. The snow covered streets and houses in various degrees of shabbiness still matched his memory from a distant past.

… _I had hoped they would never come here again._

_oOoOoOoOoOo_

**Chapter 1: The Night Before Christmas**

_A familiar start to a brand new story  
that's __just about to begin._

_oOoOoOoOoOo_

"Stop! Thief!"

The cry rang out behind the slight figure as it fled over the cobblestones dabbed with patches of snow, arms wrapped tightly around a bundle. The thief smirked as he darted away, slipping between a girl with black hair and a grey-coated man. His victim, a food-peddler, yelled out after him. Angry curses were punctuated by a fist shook at the youth's back, but the peddler couldn't leave his wares unattended to chase after one boy. The man subsided into fierce mutterings about 'street urchins' and 'should be punished' as people passing by looked on with sympathetic gazes.

Meanwhile, the thief slowed his pace considerably once out of sight until he strolled along with the crowd, before slipping unnoticed into a side alley. He considered his prize: two paper bags filled with hot chestnuts. Tucking one inside his coat, where it made a warm spot against the winter wind, the boy held onto the other to warm long-fingered hands though fingerless woollen gloves.

Dressed in a worn black coat and grey trousers that had been darned in several places, Chanson merely looked poor, unlike the rag-tag group of children dubbed 'street urchins' that ran wild through the streets of London, many of which, however, he knew. A black cap pulled low over soot-grey hair hid dark-blue eyes while his head was down; they peered out over the wide, striped scarf that kept his neck and face warm, the ends dangling down his back. Deftly peeling a chestnut, Chanson munched on it while he walked, savouring the taste.

_Heh. A slow idiot like that couldn't 'ope to catch me! He'd 'ave done better callin' the guards. Not that they're any better. _The boy snorted derisively with all the experience of his fourteen years. _Idiots, the lot of 'em._

Chanson turned the corner and began ambling down the street, trying to avoid the deepest pockets of snow. A few strains of song carried on the biting breeze caught his ears and he changed direction to head towards the source of the singing.

"_Once in Royal David's city  
Stood a lonely cattle shed …"_

He kept listening as he made his way through the snow, almost falling into a snow drift along the way. _They ain't so bad, I guess – _Grey brows snapped together in a frown, hackles rising: someone was watching him. Chanson crouched down, pretending to re-lace his boot while he glanced around under the cover of his hat.

Nothing.

Oh, there were people around, but none of them were paying attention to him specifically. The boy frowned again. He could still feel eyes on him as he resumed walking. Two more strides were all Chanson managed to take before walking into something with enough force to knock him to the ground. _Ouch …!_ He shook his head slightly to clear it, hands going to his coat. A sigh of relief came upon finding both of his prizes were safe.

"And what do we have here?" boomed a voice from above him. Chanson stiffened, and then scrambled to his feet, pulling the cap from his head. _Police'uns. Time for some play-actin'._

Chanson looked up at the pair of officers, wide-eyed innocence with a touch of nervousness in the small, thin face. He twisted his cap between his hands, feigning anxiety and a thicker street accent. "Sorry, Guv'ners, I didn' mean t' –"

"What do you have there, street brat?" one asked, contempt thick in the man's voice and in his expression. Chanson felt like kicking the man in the knee; hang the consequences! _Let's see how he can act all high 'n' mighty hoppin' 'round!_

"I'm no street brat!" he snapped back indignantly. "I was jest gettin' me an' me brother an' sister some food, like. We've bin singin' all day wif th' carollers an' we're 'ungry!"

"Carollers, huh?" the younger, red-haired one asked. "I think I remember seeing some just up the road. Wanna sing something for us, boy?"

Chanson's mouth tightened. _Not even if you paid me in gold!_ "An' let me food go cold, guv'ner? Mebbe if yon come wif me, we kin all sing for both o'ya." _As if I'd ever sing for the likes of you!_

The other policeman smirked. "Maybe. Run along, boy, and make sure you watch where you're going next time."

"Yessir. That I will, sir." Chanson ducked his head and walked off, jamming his hat back on and scowling as he heard the two policemen laughing behind him. Once around the corner with the policemen out of sight, however, his scowl dropped into a smirk. _Let's see 'em laugh when they next 'ave to pay for somethin'_, he snickered to himself, pulling out the two purses that neither policeman had noticed him taking from their belts while he had been speaking. He upended the pouches in his hand and sifted through the coins – mainly copper, with a few bits of silver – before dropping them into his own purse and tossing the cut purses into a nearby snowdrift. _That way, if anyone grabs me for them thefts, there ain't nothin' to say I did it._

Whistling softly with a slight spring in his step, Chanson continued on. He could no longer feel that watchful gaze. _Must 'ave been the police'uns, most like._ A few streets down, he caught sight of the street choir and stopped by a lamppost a few yards away as they finished their song.

"_And He leads His children on,  
To the place where He is gone_._"_

The lady that was listening laughed and clapped, thanking them for their song with a copper mark pressed into one of the elder boy's hands. He thanked her as the door closed, before he turned and caught sight of Chanson waiting nearby. A grin lit up his face. "Chanson!"

Chanson raised a hand to wave in reply as the blond boy told the others to stay where they were. They obeyed, crowding together to keep warm as their breath misted in the air in front of them. The boy took the hand of a younger girl and the two of them made their way over to Chanson.

"Chanson! What are you doing here?" he asked the second he got within earshot. The young girl merely looked up at the grey-haired boy.

"Hello to you too, William," Chanson replied with a grin. "And to you, Peel." The young girl, only about six years old, blinked up at him solemnly before smiling, a genuine smile that made the two older boys smile as well. "I got these for you," he continued, handing one of the bags of chestnuts he'd hidden in his coat to William. The blonde took them with thanks, though his sky blue eyes were worried.

"You didn't steal these, did you? If you get caught –"

"That's not a nice thin' t'say, Will, afta all the trouble I went t' get 'em!" Chanson replied, a look of mock hurt on his face. William smiled at the accent; he knew Chanson could speak as properly as anybody else when he wanted to. "'Sides, 'em Guards are so stupid, they don' look past what you put in fron' o' their noses." Chanson sniffed and went on without the accent. "I'd 'ave to be even dumber than them to get caught. They're all idiots. Didn't even notice when I lifted their purses."

William was torn between a despairing look at Chanson's actions and admiration at the other boy's feat. With a grin, Chanson peeled a chestnut and gave it to Peel before eating one himself. "Careful, they're hot," he cautioned the little girl.

William and Peel Davenport looked as alike as only brother and sister could. At ten years old, William was still shorter than Chanson, with short fair hair, pale blue eyes and pale skin with a scattering of freckles across his nose. The brown coat and red turtleneck he always wore were worn but serviceable, as was the brown messenger bag that was slung over a shoulder. His sister was just as fair and pale, her pink dress and brown coat patched with care and her blond hair tied up in pigtails.

Straightening, Chanson caught sight of the other children in the choir watching him wistfully. Or rather, watching the food in his hand wistfully. Most of these children were poor, almost street urchins themselves. _They probably 'aven't eaten since breakfast, if they got even that_. With a mental 'tch' he handed his bag of chestnuts to the nearest one, a waif-like girl with pale brown hair. "'Ere. A reward for you all for singing so well."

Their eyes lit up, thanking him profusely as the girl handed out the food equally as Chanson had known she would. Kaylin was definitely one of those children who never got more than a slice of bread for breakfast, but she didn't have a selfish or greedy bone in her body. He turned back to face William, who grinned at him.

_I'm not kind,_ Chanson retorted irritably in his mind, knowing what his friend would say. _They was staring at me. What was I supposed to do?_

"I didn't see you at lessons today." William's voice was slightly scolding.

"That's 'cause I didn't go. I got better things to do than to sit around listenin' to a priest yatter at me." Chanson took off his gloves and shoved his hands in his coat pockets. Without the food to warm them up, his fingers were _freezing_.

According to law, all children were to be schooled until they were 10, or for the older ones when the law had been put in place, until they could read, write and do basic sums. It wasn't that the grey-haired boy disliked learning, or even that he found it difficult – he didn't go because it didn't interest him, nor did he have any desire to end up anywhere near a church.

Noting the gleam in William's eye that signalled the younger boy was going to scold him some more – William could be very insistent when he wanted to be and he worried about Chanson – the elder boy hurriedly changed the subject. "Should the two of you be out here?"

"Papa said it's okay as long as we come back before nightfall," William replied.

"Peel wants to sing," the younger sister spoke up. Chanson smiled, a tinged of sadness hidden in the corners as he crouched down to Peel's height and ruffled her hair.

"It's good to sing while you can, Peel, 'cause you never know when you'll want to stop," the grey-haired boy told her. Something shifted in the deep blue eyes, a hint of sorrow buried deep as the choir started to sing again, having finished their food.

"_Silent night, holy night  
All is calm; all is bright…"_

"Does Chanson want to sing with us?" Peel's big blue eyes looked up at him innocently. Chanson swallowed, trying to ignore the lump in his throat. The corners of his eyes felt like they were burning.

"No," he replied shortly.

"You should get back by then, too. Since it's Christmas Eve, we should all be together, right? Don't stay out too late working." Chanson got to his feet as William spoke, taking the time to brush snow crystals off his pants.

"Yeah, don't worry. I'll be back." His chest felt tight as the children continued to sing, their voices lifting upon the wind and causing the sorrow within him threaten to overwhelm him. _They should all be here today … It's not fair. Why am I the only one …?_ He straightened. "See ya." He turned and began to walk away briskly, trying to escape the voices behind him. _I don't want to listen to that song anymore._

"Wait up, big brother! Where are you going?" William yelled after him.

"To find more work!" Chanson called over his shoulder, continuing to stride away. Soft snowflakes began to flutter down more thickly, white dots against his black coat.

"Remember to be back before the lamplighters come!" he heard William call from behind him. Chanson waved a hand in silent reply – _I heard ya, I heard ya_ – and continued on, a silent black wraith in the falling winter snow.

_oOoOoOoOoOo_

Chanson kicked at a clump of snow, sending bits flying in all directions and inadvertently letting freezing water trickle into his boot. He cursed angrily and shook his foot to get it out, for all the good it did.

He had long since escaped the reach of that song, but the echoes of it in his mind still plagued him in the silence around him. Chanson hadn't really taken notice of where he was going, but somehow his feet had led him here, to a tree-lined path that people never seemed to come down except for him and his guardian.

Abruptly, he realised he was singing the words to that accursed song under his breath, and laughed at himself. _I'm a fool, to ever want to sing again._ Chanson clenched his mouth shut and continued walking down the snow-covered cobblestone path where no-one ever –

Chanson paused, his foot raised in mid-step. There, clearly marked in the otherwise untouched snow, were footprints. The boy crouched to examine them. _Two people, at least – not_ him_, then – and fresh, else they'd 'ave been filled in with the snow by now._ They were heading in the same direction he was, as well. Strangely, the footprints seemed to _start_ from where he was standing, but that was ridiculous. No-one could just _appear_ in the middle of the path. Chanson shook his head. _The snow must 'ave hidden the other prints, I guess._

So it was very quietly and carefully that Chanson made the final part of his journey, his eye out for any other person around. It wasn't like he expected trouble; more that he just didn't want to meet anyone else at this moment – it was hard to imagine this place as the site of any kind of violence.

The familiar green of his destination rustled up ahead, and Chanson felt the familiar sense of peace that seemed to hover around the area. There was a … tree that Chanson came to talk to sometimes when he was troubled, though he mocked his guardian for doing the same thing. Sometimes, if he listened to the wind rustling through its leaves, it felt like the tree was talking back. Chanson certainly never mentioned his visits or the peaceful feeling the tree gave him to anyone else. _I'd be a laughing stock for sure if I ever did! Talking to a tree!_

Still, absurd as it sounded, it had saved his life once; he didn't want anyone else coming to bother it or do it harm.

He was so deep in thought that he almost forgot why he was being cautious. It was only the sound of unfamiliar voices that brought him back to reality and gave him time to duck behind another tree, this one bare of leaves from the winter cold.

"…Been a long year, hasn't it? … worried about …"

"…Remember about Holly, right? Well …"

Despite his sharp hearing, Chanson couldn't hear much of what the quiet voices were saying. _They don't sound dangerous, but …_ Chanson snuck a glance around the edge of his hiding place to get a better look at the strangers and blinked. He had never seen an odder pair of strangers.

'_Strange' is right!_ Deep blue eyes widened in disbelief before they narrowed, examining the newcomers with as much detail as they could at this distance. The shorter one was a young man in his mid-twenties, his short blue hair about the same length as Chanson's own. A long coat, high-necked with a double row of buttons marching down the front, hung almost to the man's boots and was so blindingly white that the man seemed to blend into the snow.

_At least, he would if he didn't 'ave those crimson stripes down the sleeves_, the thief snorted. _I ain't never seen his like 'round town before, so he's either from out of town or a highborn. But a highborn wouldn't come to the Lower City just to talk to a tree, no matter how strange they are. An' no out-towner'd know to come here either._

Chanson hummed softly to himself, chewing on his lip as he thought furiously. A mystery, and Chanson didn't like unsolved mysteries. The answers could normally trip up a thief or get him caught when they finally popped up. Still, the solutions to this particular puzzle were beyond his reasoning at the moment, so he turned his attention to the other man.

At first, Chanson had thought he was a woman from his long silver hair, until he had gotten a better look. The man was taller than his companion, his outfit similar but not the same, not least the fact that it was a deep crimson rather than snow-white. A fluffy scarf wrapped around the man's neck only added to the odd image.

He realised he was humming 'Trouble Was A Stranger Come' and cut off abruptly as one of the foreigners pulled something out of his pocket. The taller red one glanced around at their surroundings, making Chanson duck for cover again behind his forlorn, twig-thin tree. He sat as still as possible, hoping that no-one would come and relaxing when no-one did.

_I guess they can't mean any harm,_ Chanson reflected, tapping his knee gently. _Not if they're talking to it as well._ The tree's song hadn't changed; if anything, it sounded … happier … than Chanson had ever heard it before.

_Tree songs.__ I'm definitely going crazy. _Chanson shook his head and decided to go. He couldn't talk out any problems with those two there, and besides which, his legs were protesting at crouching in a snowdrift. Quietly, he crept back he way he had come until he felt far enough out if their sight to straighten up and keep walking. He started to hum again, the choir song still in his thoughts as he trudged through the snow, hands buried deep in his pockets. There was still time to find a few more gullible victims, even on Christmas Eve.

_oOoOoOoOoOo_

Noël frowned at the compass in his hand and tapped it. "I think it's broken."

"That is impossible, Noël," his companion replied, sighing. "It cannot _break_ –"

"Then what was that weird reaction just now?" the blue-haired man retorted. "It's only supposed to react to Klaus' Snowflake, right? None of the others are around, and you can't tell me there's _another_ successor out there …" A slim eyebrow was raised questioningly. "Well, Rudolph?"

The one called Rudolph shrugged, looking as confused as Noël felt. "Perhaps it reacted to a cauchemar instead?"

Noël sighed and shoved the defective compass back into his pocket. _I'll just have to get Renne to look at it later. _"Then you'd have sensed it, Rudolph." He glanced out at the courtyard, veiled by softly falling snow. "You can sense it now, right? Like a faint stench upon the town."

Rudolph frowned, bright green eyes serious for a change. "They are definitely here."

"Won't they ever stop? Even today, when it's Christmas Eve …" Noël trailed off, catching a snowflake in his hand and staring off into the distance with troubled eyes. Towards the source of that stench.

_Damn cauchemar._

His companion eyed him for a moment, before saying in a decidedly off-hand tone, "Speaking of Christmas Eve, I am sure that Pierre would –"

"No."

"But, Salt –"

"No! And my name isn't Salt anymore! I don't want to see him. I made a clean break with my past, Rudolph. I'm not going to dredge up old memories, and I'm sure he doesn't want to, either."

"Ah, I see. It has nothing to do with you getting hurt, of course." Rudolph's tone was bland, letting Noël know exactly how the Reindeer felt. Not that it mattered; Rudolph had been bringing up the same point every year they came, and every year Noël dismissed it. "You're not afraid of what might happen if you were to meet your best friend after all this time."

"It's been ten years since then, Rudolph. Why bring up the past? _No_," he repeated emphatically as Rudolph opened his mouth again. "I'm not going to visit him and that's final."

Rudolph sighed. _As stubborn as ever_. "As you say, Noël."

Silver eyes glanced back up at the tree they stood beside as its leaves rustled anxiously. "Don't worry, Charles, we aren't fighting, just –"

"– talking in loud voices," finished Rudolph, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. Noël ignored him and continued on.

"I'll come to see you again sometime, but Rudolph and I have to take care of a few problems around town. Take care, alright?" He spun on a booted heel and walked off, calling over his shoulder to Rudolph. "Let's go!"

Rudolph looked up at the spreading branches of the tree. "Charles, I worry that your brother grows more distant with every Christmas that passes … Take care." With those parting words, the silver-haired man followed his partner into the veil of snow, both of them disappearing within moments.

_oOoOoOoOoOo_

The lamplighters were just beginning to ply their trade as Chanson wandered down another road. William's reminder echoed in the back of his mind, but the grey-haired boy did his best to ignore it. _Makes no difference whether I'm there or not, anyway. Christmas Eve. Hah!_ he thought sullenly.

Suddenly, Chanson felt crowded, despite the fact that the number of people on the streets was beginning to dwindle rapidly. He ducked off the main road, nodding at one of the boys lightening the street lanterns who called a season's greeting to him. Shoulders hunched against the cold and his hands still shoved deep into his pockets, Chanson trudged down an abandoned side alley. Trudged, as houses only backed onto this alley and thus no-one could see the point in clearing a path free of snow that no-one would use.

William and Peel would be getting worried. He had promised to be back by dark, after all, and Chanson kept his promises. Usually. Unless they were pointless.

_And in this case, it is a pointless promise. Being together on Christmas Eve … who decided that was a good thing? What about people who don't have anyone to be with? If it's a time for family, then I – _

His fingers strayed to the locket around his neck, hidden under his scarf. The icy chill of the metal numbed his skin, but he didn't let go. _If it's a time for people to be at home – _

"Um, 'scuse me, mister?" a piping voice asked from behind him.

Chanson whirled around, his hand automatically clenching around the locket protectively, the other straying towards his hidden belt knife. Sharlene had always frowned on him for carrying that, even when he pointed out why he needed to carry a knife in the first place. Too many people saw a kid as an easy target, to rob or otherwise. _I'll show them who's a 'kid'!_ he growled mentally.

However, it wasn't an adult or even a policeman as Chanson had feared. Trying to explain why he was there would have been extremely difficult, though in hindsight he realised in a corner of his mind that a policeman wouldn't have been that polite. A pipsqueak of a kid a bit younger than William stood there, short blond hair spiking down from under his cap. His clothing, in various shades of dirty brown, was ragged and had tears at the elbows and knees, but wasn't the shabbiest clothing that Chanson had seen.

_Huh. One of the well-off street urchins, I guess._ Not one that he knew, even by sight, which was odd, though not impossible. _Surely I can't know all of 'em!_

The grey-haired boy relaxed slightly, hands going back to his pockets. Even so, he watched the boy warily, annoyed that his solitude had been disturbed. "What d'ya want?" he grumbled.

"'T'was w- wonderin'," stammered the small boy, evidently affected by Chanson's glower, "I – if ya'd like t'buy summin t'eat?" He held out a lollipop, his hand shaking slightly. Chanson eyed the sweet with the air of one who had stolen such sweets before; it looked like it had come from one of the fancier shops in the Upper City. _The kid's got talent if 'e can steal from there._

"What makes you think I'm going t' buy stolen food?" Chanson replied.

The boy's eyes widened indignantly. "Me, stealin'?"

"Aye, an' you could get yourself in trouble if you sold it to them respectables." Chanson crossed his arms. "I could turn you in, y'know." He wasn't being serious. _I wouldn't go near a police'un even if I got paid to do it!_

"Naw," the boy shook his head. "Ya name's Chanson, right? You was street like me."

"Heard o' me, huh?" Chanson raised an eyebrow at the younger boy.

"Yeah!" The boy's eyes lit up. "Th'others say ya th' best on the liftin' lay."

"Huh. Maybe." Chanson scratched his chin, feeling faintly pleased. The lavish swirls of the sweet looked invitingly tasty. _Maybe Peel'd like it_. _'Sides, it's not like I ain't got the money, thanks to them police'uns._ "'Ere."

The coin he flipped at the boy was silver; a fortune to a kid like that. It had been a fortune to Chanson until he'd learnt to pickpocket – the 'lifting lay' as it was known amongst thieves. He caught the lollipop as the kid tossed it to him in return, stowing it in his coat pocket.

"Thanks, mister! Merry Christmas, an' all." The kid made the coin disappear quickly into his pocket.

_There ain't nothin' merry 'bout it_, Chanson thought to himself, mood beginning to sour again. Aloud he replied, "An' t' you." Feeling colder by the second, Chanson turned around to continue his steady trudge up the street.

"Hey, brat." The piping voice had become deeper, cold and sneering. It was so different that Chanson missed a step in surprise and winced as a hand crushed his arm in a tight grip. "Don't ignore me."

"Let go of me!" Chanson yelled, yanking his arm in a futile attempt to free it. _How can a pipsqueak like that be so strong?_ he thought in bewilderment, turning to face the kid and freezing in shock. Blue eyes widened. _What the – there's no way – _

"You want me to let go of ya, huh?" his captor drawled, raising his chin to peer down at Chanson with cold, piercing orange eyes. The young boy had somehow become a young man in his early twenties, although that was the least strange thing about the newcomer.

His hair was still the same, spiking up in back and down in front, but now it had darkened to a deep orange that stood out even in the descending gloom of evening. Small gold rings marched down the rim of his left ear; a large gold hoop hung from the right. A dark line – scar or tattoo, it was too hard to make out in the dull light – zigzagged from the corner of his left eye to his temple and down the side of his face. A thin mouth smirked at the surprise written across Chanson's face. "Now that I've got your attention, brat … There's a few things I wanna say."

With a hard shove, the man sent Chanson sprawling a few paces back into a courtyard filled with snow. Chanson sat up with a groan, his vision spinning, and tried to scramble backwards as his attacker walked towards him with a slow menace. "The name's Dacquoise, Dacqx for short, not that you'll need to remember it for much longer." Chanson's back hit a wall; there was an alley to both his left and right. _Maybe I can escape that way from this crazy guy … who the hell is he? _He slid himself up the wall, using it to support unsteady legs as Dacqx came closer, still talking. "You, brat, have something that belongs to me."

"I ain't got nothin' of yours!" Chanson yelled, mind racing. _I'd remember if I'd ever even _seen_ him, let alone lift somethin' of his!_ "Leave me alone!"

"Oh, I don't think so." Dacqx rolled his fingers, a short baton twirling into his hand from nowhere. "You have a power that I want, and you're gonna give it to me even if I have to kill you to get it."

Chanson blinked in confusion. "A power? What the hell do you mean? Stop talking nonsense!" His eyes darted to the side. _It's now or never!_ "Leave me alone!" He pushed away from the wall, dashing towards his one hope of escape.

Dacqx grinned sardonically. _Like that's gonna work, ya little whelp._ He flicked the rod in his hand casually, his thumb hitting a hidden catch in the side. A black leather cord snaked out to wrap around Chanson's ankle, the triple barb on the tip tearing through cloth to dig into skin.

Chanson screamed in pain and fear as he was jerked off his feet. Dacqx flung him casually in the opposite direction and reclaimed his whip as the boy slammed into the brick wall.

His ankle throbbed; his back ached from where it had hit the bricks behind him. Chanson winced as he sat up, eyes widening as they took in the snow stained crimson with blood. _His_ blood. That – _freak_ – was still coming towards him, teeth bared in a predatory grin.

"H –" Chanson squeaked, his voice breaking with fear. _He's gonna kill me!_ "H – Help! Someone! _Help me!_"

Dacqx laughed as the human boy tried to scramble away, unable to put any weight on his injured ankle. _Run all you want; your power is mine, brat!_ "No-one's gonna help ya, ya little whelp. Just stay still so it's easier for me, will ya?"

_It's useless. _Tears of fear were welling in Chanson's eyes. He reached blindly for something, _anything_ that he could use as a weapon. All he found was snow; his belt knife was unreachable. _Where's the litter that's always on the streets, dammit!_ He felt a tingling in his chest, as though his emotions were threatening to burst out of him. _Is this 'ow it ends? Am I gonna die here? No! I can't!_

"_GET AWAY FROM ME!_" he yelled, flinging the only weapon he had – a handful of snow – at the orange haired monster with all his strength. The tingling sensation surged through him in a surge of white heat. _I refuse to be killed by a freak like him!_

Dacqx flinched back as the snowball hit his face, although it wasn't the snow that hurt him. The raw power behind the kid's words had hit him at full force. _Damn it, I thought the kid was supposed to be unable to use his power!_ He growled; his lips drew back over sharp teeth. Lightning crackled around his body once, twice. _I'll make the brat pay for that!_ Electricity flowed down the length of the whip, playing across the pitch-dark leather in a leaping, flashing dance that never followed the same steps twice.

It was a fearsome sight in the oncoming gloom, the glow around Dacqx brightening the clearing like a midday sun. Snow melted under the intense heat of the white flashes as they crackled and roared.

Chanson's eyes were as wide as they could possibly go; his face was as pale as the snow that spun around them in a frenzy, whipped up by the lightning. "What … What the 'ell … are you?" he whispered.

A chuckle answered him. "Heh. Doesn't matter to you, brat, 'cause you're gonna die no matter the answer." Dacqx raised his arm, preparing to lash out as lightning raced across his body. The whip came down; Chanson cried out, raising his arm to shield his face in a useless gesture –

– a flash of white darted in front of him –

Dacqx's whip cracked against wood, followed almost immediately by a coarse oath from the orange-haired man. Chanson lowered his arm slightly to peek at the scene before him, incredulous that he was still alive. His mouth dropped open in surprise.

Right in front of him stood one of the strangers he had seen by the tree earlier, coat still as blindingly white as before. This close, Chanson could see the splits at the bottom of the man's trouser legs and the well-made quality of the man's boots. He forgot the pain in his ankle with his shock, craning his head back to get a better look at his rescuer. Although the man's back was towards him, Chanson could see he held a long black staff of some kind out in front of him which had caught the whip.

_Where's the other one?_

"Run, kid!" the man snapped over his shoulder at Chanson, his voice betraying the strain he was under to keep Dacqx from reclaiming his whip. Chanson's breath caught – there was something odd about the man's eyes – but before he could reply, let alone protest (_'Ow does he expect me to run with an ankle like this? And where, with 'im blocking the path?_) the blue-haired man's attention had shifted away from Chanson to something beyond the enemy's shoulder. "Now, Rudolph!"

Silver flashed through the air. With a curse, Dacqx managed to free his whip with a flick of the wrist and ducked, the oncoming sword whistling over his hair with millimetres to spare. Chanson's question was answered, at least; the crimson-clad stranger pivoted smoothly and struck out again, forcing Dacqx to jump backwards to land on a nearby crate.

Their orange-haired assailant flipped his whip upwards, resting the handle against his shoulder and adopting a lounging pose. "Oh, look," he drawled. "One of the Santa brats and an annoying Reindeer." The last was said with a sneer, although Chanson felt bewildered. _Santa? Reindeer? Are any of these people sane?_

The white stranger shifted his hold on his staff. No, it was more than a mere staff, Chanson realised as he got a better look at it. One end branched out into two prongs of a silvery metal, a deep sapphire-blue gem as large as Chanson's fist gripped between them. His attention was dragged away from the strange staff by the man's words. "I thought I could smell the stench of a cauchemar here in this town. I'm surprised there's only one of you." The traces of a London accent remained in his speech, surprising Chanson. _What the 'ell is a 'coushmar'?_

Dacqx laughed. "Just me, Santa brat. For now, at least. Stand aside, you and the Reindeer both, and maybe I won't kill you after I kill that kid." Lightning leapt across his body and wove around the whip once more.

"Like hell I'll do that," Chanson's rescuer growled, pointing his staff at the other man. The jewel at the tip began shimmer faintly within its depths.

"Well, if you want to die –" Dacqx leapt off the crate before the words had even finished leaving his mouth, straight at the blue-haired man. Blue light flared in the depths of the jewel, growing stronger until Chanson had to shield his eyes from the glow. At the very last second, Dacqx's mouth twitched in a mocking smile. His free hand came forward, lightning lancing from his outstretched fingers even as he himself changed directions _mid-charge_, whip flicking towards the silver-haired man – _Rudolph?_ – hungrily seeking flesh. Chanson's rescuer cursed, blue light spreading out in a shield to deflect the lightning.

Due to Dacqx's lightning-fast movements, Rudolph barely had time to react before the whip curled around his sword blade and yanked it out of his hands, sending it clattering against the wall a yard or so from Chanson. Dacqx was still moving forward, driving the butt of the whip into Rudolph's stomach and slamming his elbow into the man's chin as he doubled over. Chanson winced as Rudolph stumbled backwards; a combination of sympathy for Rudolph and his own pain as the snow he held to his ankle made the wound sting.

Winded or not, the silver-haired man still had breath to yell, "Noël, watch out!" at the same moment the white-clad man shouted "Freeze!"

_Like that's going t'__ work_, Chanson snorted silently. _Even I wouldn't obey that!_ From the sneer on Dacqx's face, he had just thought the same thing. His whip snapped outwards; blood dripped onto the bright snow from a bloody gash across Noël's hand.

Dacqx's curse drew Chanson's attention; to both of their astonishment, ice was creeping steadily up the ginger-haired man's right leg, freezing it solid. _How –?_ Chanson wondered, cutting off as his eyes flickered towards the peculiar staff the man called Noël held. He laughed weakly to himself. _There's no way that's a magic staff like in the stories. I'm dreaming. This is a fever-dream, that's all. _Would his ankle hurt so much in a dream? Chanson shoved the question out of his mind firmly. _Fever dream. I should know._

"Damn you both, I'm after the kid, so just get out of my –" Dacqx was cut off as Rudolph's boot slammed into the side of his head with a fierce kick.

"Shut up, cauchemar," was all the comment the crimson-clad man gave, dodging another lightning bolt that blackened the bricks behind him. Dacqx's aim was off as he staggered back from the blow. _Why is he so determined to kill me?_ Chanson shook his head, still bewildered. _It's not real. I'm going t' wake up soon … God help me, I wish I would wake up soon!_

Dacqx threw back his head and screamed a wordless roar of pure rage that echoed in the small space. Another spell tore through Dacqx's shoulder leaving a gaping hole, but the man took no notice as he continued to scream in anger. Rudolph was knocked backwards as lightning cocooned the 'cauchemar', streamers of electricity leaping across it and striking out at random. A bolt grazed Rudolph's arm; another slammed into the bricks inches from Chanson's head, tearing splinters from the wall. Chanson ducked belatedly. _I would really like to wake up now!_

The ice shattered around the cauchemar's leg. Noël planted himself directly in front of the kid, who had ignored his earlier advice to run. _Probably frozen in place with shock. Dammit, this makes things harder. Why would a cauchemar be after him so desperately, anyway?_ The cauchemar put an end to his thoughts, lashing his whip around the clearing in a wide arc, aiming at anything and everything. Noël winced as the barbed tip caught his shoulder, slicing through cloth and skin with equal ease.

Peeking around the white coat, Chanson ducked as another bolt of lightning shot over his head and scorched the edge of the fabric black. _He's going into a blind rage … at this rate we're all going t' die!_ A gleam from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Rudolph's sword lay half-covered by snow, the hilt lying towards Chanson. _I don't know if this'll work, but …_ He shifted, testing his ankle. It hurt, but he could still move it. _Here goes …!_

The soot-haired boy dived to the side, arm reaching desperately for the hilt of the sword. His hand closed around it; with a thrill of triumph, Chanson tossed the sword through the air with all his strength. "Here, catch!"

Both Noël and Rudolph stared at him in disbelief. Rudolph recovered first, managing to snatch his sword out of the air despite Chanson's awkward throw. The boy had courage; perhaps he hadn't been frozen in shock earlier.

Unfortunately, in devising his great plan Chanson had forgotten to reflect on the idea that by returning Rudolph's sword, he had also inadvertently drawn Dacqx's attention. Lightning lashed out, forcing Noël to jump further away from Chanson to avoid being fried to a crisp.

Dark blue eyes widened as Dacqx growled in anger, swinging his whip in a wide loop with all his might. The barbed tip whistled towards Chanson's face, too fast for the boy to try and dodge out of the way.

Noël cursed, staggering to his feet, but he already knew he wasn't going to make it in time. Rudolph was even further away, unable to stop the whip's descent any more than Noël could. _No! He's going to –!_

A brown-coated figure darted out of one of the alleyways connecting to the courtyard and jumped in front of the boy, raising an arm to shield them both. The barb bit deep into the newcomer's arm, splashing more blood across the snow. Noel spared no time to think on the new arrival. _Now's my chance! _

Dacqx cursed, reclaiming his whip. _How many of them are going to interfere with my plans?_

In that split second of inattention, Noël's final spell hit Dacqx squarely in the chest. The cauchemar snarled, refusing to give in despite the fact that he was starting to dissolve into mist. Lightning leapt between the fingers of one hand. "He'll … be ours … soon enough …" he spat, just as Rudolph's sword slashed home. The orange-haired man cursed and finally disappeared for good, his whip dropping into the snow. Rudolph bent to pick it up, only for it to evaporate into mist just like its master. Noel frowned, examining the buildings around them, on the lookout for any more cauchemar that might choose to attack thinking their guards were down.

Chanson looked up into warm brown eyes. "Are you hurt?" his second rescuer said, sitting back on his heels and shaking snow off short, mahogany-coloured hair.

"My – my ankle was –" He caught sight of the other man's wound. "But your arm!"

A small chuckle answered his shock. "Ah, this is nothing. Marie'll fix it up in no time, and that ankle, too." He helped Chanson sit up against the wall one-handed. Blood soaked the sleeve of his injured arm.

"How did you –?" Chanson's throat closed up as the events of the past few minutes – _minutes? They felt like hours!_ – finally caught up with him and he swayed in shock. His rescuer's hand steadied him.

"Breathe, Chanson. Will and Peel said they'd delivered my message, so we all got worried when you didn't show up …"

Rudolph had reached Noël by then, drawing the blue-haired man's attention away from the duo. "Perhaps we should go before they notice us, except that –"

"Yeah, I agree. That cauchemar was too interested in this kid, and I want to know why. Plus –" Noël looked over at the grey-haired boy. The kid's mouth was set stubbornly as he argued with whoever the man in the brown coat was. _Maybe the boy's father? He seems familiar somehow …_

"Who, the boy?" Noël hadn't realised that he'd spoken aloud until Rudolph answered him. "Have you met him before?"

The kid looked up then and met Noël's eyes. "No, he replied softly. "But … he reminds me a bit … of Charles …" Rudolph blinked at him and then turned to study the boy as well. Evidently, that was one too many piercing stares for the boy, as he shifted his gaze to look in the other direction. The mahogany-haired man with him chuckled slightly – why did the sound of it brush the very outskirts of Noël's memory? – and ruffled the boy's hair. The kid scowled again, petulance written in every feature as he raised a hand to brush the man's hand away. Noël moved closer, deciding to talk to the boy. _I need to know why the cauchemar was after him …_

At the sound of footsteps, or perhaps it was just to see what had shifted the boy's attention, the man kneeling beside the boy glanced around at them. Brown eyes snapped up to meet silver, wide with surprise.

"S …Salt?"

Noël's eyes widened in shock.

"…Pierre?"

_oOoOoOoOoOo_

_I never expected to meet him. I never expected it to be this way. _

_I never meant for this to happen._

_After all these years, I had hoped that we would never meet again._

_oOoOoOoOoOo_

_Ch__apter End_

_oOoOoOoOoOo_

**Next Time: **_**Chapter 2 – ****Christmas Comes But Once a Year**_

_An unexpected meeting between tw__o old friends and a boy hunted for a power he does not realise he possesses. What is Chanson's mysterious power and why are the cauchemar so determined to get it? Difficult questions will be asked, and not all will have the answers that are searched and hoped for. _

_Like snowflakes that twirl in the winter breeze, their fates are no longer their own._

* * *

**A/N:**

Anyway~! That was the first chapter of Silent Night! I hope you enjoyed it ^^ Thank you very much for reading ^^v

I get the feeling they're all a bit OOC... but I always think that, so maybe I'm just a bit paranoid... hopefully they aren't (-/\-) And the lamplighters make me lol, for some reason ^^; Even though in those days it would have been an important job...

As for the updating schedule, I'm afraid this one is going to be rather slow... Definately not faster than monthly! OTL I'm sorry!

In any case, hope you enjoyed reading~ (^^)/ Let me know what you thought!

Thanks again and see you next time! :D


	2. Christmas Comes But Once A Year

Hello again~ Hope everyone is doing well~ (^o^)/

Here's the next chapter~ Many thanks and a basket of virtual cookies goes to Nanaga for beta-ing :D

**Disclaimer:** Don't own any of the characters, concepts or storylines from Hoy Glory or Noel la Neige. Guess I own my OCs, though?

**Warnings:** Uh... spoilers for the manga? :D

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 2: Christmas Comes But Once A Year**

_I made a break with my past,  
But it seems my past still clings onto me._

_oOoOoOoOoOo_

_I had hoped that I would never have to come here to fight ever again … I had hoped they would never come here again._

"S …Salt?"

"…Pierre?"

_I never expected to meet him. I never expected it to be this way. _

_I never meant for this to happen._

_After all these years, I had hoped we would never meet again._

_oOoOoOoOoOo_

Time seemed to freeze as the two men stared at each other in shock, one standing and one kneeling, while snowflakes fluttered gently past. Pierre got to his feet slowly as though afraid what he saw was a mirage that would disappear into thin air, ignoring the snow crystals that clung to his clothes and glittered in the rising moonlight.

Noël stood still as Pierre came closer, the other man staring at him intensely He watched the emotions passing through the warm brown eyes – cautious doubt replaced by recognition and surprise, to be overtaken by dawning joy. "It _is_ you, Salt!" Pierre exclaimed, a wide grin splitting his face. "It's been almost ten years, hasn't it? You've gotten taller! It's so good to see you!" He embraced the blue-haired man in his happiness, not noticing that Noël made no move to return the greeting. Pierre released him and looked past Noël to the Reindeer behind him. "Rudolph! It's been a while, but you're looking the same as ever. How are you?"

Rudolph was torn between delight at seeing Pierre and his worry over Noël's behaviour, considering the vehemence his partner had shown earlier against this very meeting ever happening. Even so, his return smile was genuine as he reached out to shake the offered hand. "Quite well, considering the circumstances."

Looking ruefully at his own bleeding arm compared to the small lightning burn on the other man, Pierre had to agree. He glanced again at Salt. _Why isn't he saying anything? _The blue-haired man's face was in shadow, but the crimson bloodstain blossoming against the white of his coat was plainly visible, as was the gash across his hand. Pierre's eyes widened. "Ack! I'm sorry, I didn't realise – Please, come home with me, I'm sure Marie will be happy to fix you both up –"

"I don't need it."

Both Pierre and Rudolph looked at Noël in surprise, although Rudolph was markedly less taken aback at the vehemence in his partner's voice than Pierre. _Salt? What's wrong? Are you angry? And why won't you look at me?_

"Salt, this isn't the time to act tough –"

"I _said_, I don't need it. I don't want your help." Salt finally met his gaze, making Pierre step back in shock at the hardness in the silver eyes. _Wha – what? _What had happened to the Salt he knew?

"S – Salt –"

"Salt no longer exists, so stop calling me that! It's pissing me off! My name is Noël."

Pierre looked bewildered at Rudolph, hoping for some kind of explanation as to what was going on. _This isn't the Salt I remember._ The Reindeer sighed. "Noël, that's not a nice way to speak to your friend…"

"Shut up! He isn't my friend! We're going, Rudolph. Come on." Noël stalked off, ignoring the disapproving green-eyed frown he got in return. He brushed past Pierre, the bewildered look on the man's face beginning to mingle with hurt. Noël ground his teeth, guilt already beginning to make his chest twinge, but he kept walking and shoved the guilt away angrily. _I didn't want to ever meet him while I was here! Dammit, Rudolph, you'd better not have had any hand in planning this! Or I'll – I'll – confiscate all your candy for a week! A month!_

"Noël, what about the child?" Rudolph whispered, catching up to the departing Santa Claus.

"What about him?" Noël retorted mulishly. "He's just a brat of a kid."

"But the cauchemar –"

"Rudolph. I thought I made myself clear. We're _going_."

A hand reached out and grabbed Noël's arm, yanking him back. Unfortunately, whoever had grabbed him – Rudolph? – had caught a hold of his injured arm, making Noël hiss in pain. He spun with a growl to meet Pierre's brown eyes filled with determination. "Let go of me!"

"No." Pierre's grip tightened. "I know we haven't met for ten years, but that doesn't stop me from being your friend, no matter what kind of issue you apparently have with me! And as a friend, I'm worried about you. So unless you want me to drag you all the way back to my house, stop being so stubborn! We're all injured and I refuse to stand out here freezing into an iceblock trying to convince you. Rudolph, I know Marie has some kind of ointment for burns from last winter…"

Rudolph nodded. "Yes, I should probably get this fixed up…"

Noël eyed his partner flatly. "It's just a small burn."

The Reindeer touched the red patch on his arm gingerly and winced. "Ah, but it's actually quite bad. And it could get worse; that was quite an advanced cauchemar."

Noël's teeth ground almost audibly. _I know what you're doing, you damn – _"You're a terrible liar, Rudolph. If it's that bad, I can heal it with magic, there's no need to –"

"I'm not lying," Rudolph's green eyes were suspiciously innocent. "Besides, you still haven't mastered that spell yet, so maybe it's just safe to let Pierre see to it."

"If it's that bad, then let's go home and Yule can heal it!"

"Yule's away on a mission at the moment."

"How the hell do you know that?"

"Salt, come on! Stop being so stubborn!"

"I told you to stop calling me Salt! My name is Noël!"

Chanson blinked, stunned into silence as he watched the three adults argue. _I thought I didn't understand before, but now my head is starting to hurt trying to figure _this_ out. Pierre knows those weird guys?_ He coughed and shifted, but no-one seemed to pay him any mind as they continued arguing. The grey-haired boy sighed. _At this rate, I'll be frozen solid before they finish, an' I don't fancy being an iceblock…_ He filled his lungs. "'AY! 'SCUSE ME!"

The three men stopped instantly, turning to look at Chanson. The blue-haired man – _is his name Salt or Noël?_ – glared at him. Chanson blinked again in surprise. _Silver eyes? He has _silver_ eyes? What in the world is he?_

Pierre's face was unreadable in the half-light, although concern marked his features when his eyes fell on Chanson's injured ankle. _If we don't get that fixed up it could scar, or worse …_ Brown eyes looked over at his friend, confusion and sadness battling within him. Strangely, Salt looked sad now, weary instead of just angry. _I don't know what's happened to him since then, but I'm not going to let him leave so suddenly now either! … Salt, what's wrong with you…?_

He sighed and dropped his hand from Noël's sleeve. His blue-haired friend rubbed his arm as he looked away from Pierre, avoiding his gaze, but he didn't leave. _I don't understand you anymore, Salt, but … I guess for now the only thing I can do is to play it your way._ Rudolph and Noël blinked as the mahogany-haired man stepped back and bowed slightly. "Thank you for saving Chanson's life tonight." The former warmth was gone from his voice; something inside Noël cringed at the way Pierre spoke as though they were complete strangers. _It's better this way_, the Santa told himself harshly. _I don't …_

Pierre was still speaking. "I can't really thank you properly, but its Christmas Eve and my house is welcome to anyone." He straightened and walked over to Chanson. "Come on, let's get you home. That leg looks pretty bad –"

"It's fine, I can stand on it," the grey-haired boy grumbled, wincing and almost falling over when he tried to demonstrate.

"– so I'll carry you. No complaining."

Rudolph leant over to whisper in Noël's ear as Pierre knelt so that Chanson could clamber awkwardly onto his back. "_Noël_ … Even if you want to avoid Pierre, you have a duty as a Santa Claus to protect the children…"

Noël 'tch'ed. _Rudolph's right. I don't like what that cauchemar said. Which means…_ He sighed and tapped his staff, letting it return to its previous compass form before he walked over to join the other two. _I have no choice about it, no matter how I hate it._

Both Pierre and Chanson looked up as he came over. Before Pierre could open his mouth, however, Chanson beat him to it. "Just what the hell is goin' on?" the boy growled.

Pierre frowned. "Chanson –"

"No! I'm cold, me ankle 'urts like crazy, I've been thrown 'round like a rag-doll and attacked by a creepy orange 'aired freak, only to be saved by two complete strangers who you seem t' know! What's goin' on?" Chanson glared at Noël from Pierre's shoulder. His guardian sighed, shoulders drooping slightly, causing Chanson to hurriedly tighten his grip lest he fall off.

"Chanson, these two are old friends of mine when I was around your age. This is S –"

"Noël," the blue-haired man cut in. "My name is Noël Christenbell and this is my partner, Rudolph."

"Rudolph? As in, the reindeer?" Chanson snorted.

All of the adults shared the kind of glance that Chanson hated. _Don't treat me like a kid!_

The crimson-clad man nodded, a smile on his face. "Yes, that's exactly right."

_He can't be serious. I probably just misheard 'em before. There's no such thing as Santa _or _his reindeer._ Chanson narrowed his eyes. His ankle was really beginning to throb now, but his desire for answers won out against the pain. "So who was that guy earlier? _What_ was he? A …. A 'coshmar' or something, you said?"

Again, that shared look. If he hadn't been injured, he would have tried to kick the lot of them in the shins. Eventually Noël broke the silence with a sigh, silver eyes troubled. "A 'cauchemar'. It's too dangerous to explain here, when more might turn up at any moment. If I'm going to have to explain all this then I'd prefer to do it someplace warm as well."

"_More_?" Chanson repeated, although only Rudolph heard him. Noël stared challengingly at Pierre, who simply grinned in reply.

It was a start, at least.

_oOoOoOoOoOo_

The trip back to Pierre's house took place in silence so thick it was deafening. Only the crunch of their boots on the snow and Chanson's stifled winces of pain as his ankle was jolted broke through it. There was so much Pierre wanted to ask his old friend, ten years worth of questions to ask and things to tell him, but the chill that was emanating from Salt – or Noël, whichever – was an effective barrier against any form of conversation. So they walked side-by-side without a word being exchanged between them, leaving Pierre with only his own thoughts and the pain in his arm.

_I don't understand … Ten years ago, when he left, we were friends, weren't we? I thought we were, and yet … Every year, without fail, he'd come back at Christmas to see Charles, but in all this time he's never bothered to come see me… Maybe … he just wants to forget… but even so, Salt, why do you hate me? And why have you turned up again after all this time?_

Noël couldn't speak. They were walking down streets that he had known – still knew, in fact – like the back of his hand. Even in the forlorn snow, a thousand and one memories came to plague him, more pouring in to replace the ones he shoved away. _That's why I never wanted to come back here more than I had to. I'm not that person anymore. Salt Lothrick no longer exists. It'd be better for everyone if that guy just disappeared from everyone's memories. Especially Pierre's._ Silver eyes glanced surreptitiously at the man walking beside him. It was a shock to see how Pierre had changed over the years, although Noël knew that he himself no longer looked as he had ten years ago. Pierre was still taller than him, though his chestnut hair was longer now, falling past the nape of his neck. The familiar face had matured into adulthood, but the smile that lit his face and the kindness in his eyes hadn't changed at all. Noël wished they had, wished he had some reason for hating his friend to offer Rudolph. _Why the hell should I need a reason to avoid someone?_ He thought mutinously, hidden fingers clenching into a fist. _Dammit, Pierre, couldn't you have picked another kid to rescue?_

Why _had_ Pierre come, anyway? Was the kid really his son? Noël had given up praying a long time ago, but he mentally pleaded to any higher power that this wasn't the case. _As soon as possible, as soon as I get the chance, I want to leave._ The young boy shifted on Pierre's back, a sullen scowl written heavily across his face. At being carried, Noël guessed. _Why would a cauchemar be after _this_ kid? He seems perfectly normal to me. But then, I was perfectly normal when they came after me all those years ago._

He glanced at Pierre again. His old friend didn't appear to be too badly off: his coat was reasonable quality, certainly better than it had been when they were children. Noël looked away as he realised Pierre was wearing the old hat Noël had given him when he'd left.

"_I won't need this anymore, here, you take it."_

… _He still has it? _Shame bubbled up in the pit of his stomach and his frown deepened.

Rudolph sighed as he followed behind them both, keeping an eye out for more cauchemar. _I wish there was some way to get them to talk. This silence is awful._ The scowl on Noël's face was getting darker by the minute, making his partner worry. _I was afraid this would happen._

The grey-haired child suddenly gave a start and tried to sit up, his hand going to his coat. Pierre winced. "Please watch out for my arm, Chanson."

"I just remembered somethin'," the boy explained, rummaging in a pocket carefully. "I 'ope I didn't drop it when 'e threw me…" He gave a small exclamation and pulled something out f his coat: a lollipop, of all things. The sweet scent of sugar reached the Reindeer's sensitive nose, making him drool in hunger.

"Marie already had dinner ready when I came to look for you, so maybe you shouldn't eat it now," Pierre suggested. Chanson snorted in reply.

"This ain't for me. I thought Peel'd like it, but…" he trailed off. Chanson glanced from the candy in his hand to Noël and then finally to Rudolph, who was staring at the food. _It's probably just me imagination._ "Before Dacqx attacked me –"

"Dacqx?" Noël cut in, one eyebrow raised questioningly. Chanson's chin raised slightly in challenge, his voice still muffled by his striped scarf.

"'Is name. 'E said it was Da – Dak – Dacqouise or somethin', Dacqx for short." Chanson tugged the scarf down so he could speak more clearly. "Before 'e turned up, there was this pipsqueak kid who looked like 'im. An' I got this," he lifted the lollipop slightly, "from that kid. But since 'e tried t' kill me, I dunno if this is alright, see? I don't want t' give Peel anythin' bad."

_Well, he's not stupid,_ Noël thought, signalling to Rudolph that he could reply. As the Reindeer reached for the sweet to get a closer look, Noël murmured in a warning tone, "Don't eat it."

Rudolph sighed and patted the bag he carried – _I already have enough sweets here, Noël_ – before examining the lollipop. "It looks fine," the silver haired man said eventually. "I can't smell the taint of anything from their world." He handed the lollipop back to Chanson, who still looked sceptical.

"Rudolph knows his candy," Noël told him. "If he says it's safe, then it's safe. Don't worry."

Looking slightly more reassured, Chanson pocket the candy again. "…Thanks." This was directed at Rudolph, who smiled in reply. The boy's face immediately dropped into a suspicious frown. _What do they want? I don't trust them, even if they saved me._

Now that the atmosphere wasn't so strained, Pierre opened his mouth to speak to Noël once and for all, only to be distracted by something up ahead. A dark-haired young woman stood at the top of a short flight of steps, the door behind her slightly ajar and letting light spill across the snow-covered street. She was looking up and down the street anxiously, hands smoothing invisible creases from her apron. As they drew closer, she looked around and a great wave of relief passed across her face. "Pierre! Did you find him?"

She hurried down the steps to meet them. "Chanson! Oh, thank goodness! We were so worried…" Chanson looked away as she smoothed his fringe back from his face, somehow managing to look shame-faced and surly at the same time. "Are you alright?"

"'M fine," he muttered. "'Cept for me ankle, anyway." Chanson didn't want to be fussed over, especially not in front of his present company. He glared at Noël, who happened to be watching the exchange. _Stop starin' at me!_ Noël glared back at him, eyebrow twitching in annoyance. _Stupid brat!_

"Marie, Chanson only hurt his ankle a bit, he'll be fine once it's fixed up," Pierre said with a soothing smile, adjusting his hold on Chanson as the boy began to slip. Marie's eyes, already filled with concern, widened.

"Pierre, your arm!"

"Ahaha, it's nothing," Pierre said, trying to hide his arm. "Just a scratch." Marie's mouth set stubbornly as she seized his arm, exposing it to better light. The tear in his sleeve and the bloody gash beneath it looked even worse than they had in the semi-gloom. Even Chanson winced. _I didn't ask 'im to jump in and save me!_ He thought stubbornly.

"You call this a scratch?" Marie demanded. "Inside, both of you, so I can fix you up. Pierre, what happened? Why are you both hurt?" Brown eyes glanced over Chanson's head to Noël and Rudolph, who were standing a few paces away. "And who are they?"

Pierre half-turned, Marie still holding onto his arm. "Ah, I'm sorry." He beckoned to the other two with his head to come over. They obeyed, Noël with more reluctance than Rudolph. "These are the people who saved Chanson when he got attacked earlier, Rudolph and –"

"Noël," the blue-haired man interrupted, eyeing Pierre with suspicion and making the brunette sigh. "Noël Christenbell. Pleased to meet you," he added politely.

"These are the friends I told you about so long ago as well," Pierre clarified, making Noël frown at him briefly. What had Pierre said about them?

Now hat he was closer, Noël got a better look at Marie. She looked around his own age but was shorter, reaching Pierre's shoulder at most. Dark brown hair fell to her shoulders and framed her face; her brown eyes shared the same kindness that dwelt in Pierre's. Noël watched the way she and Pierre stood close together, her hand resting on his arm as she blinked in surprise.

"A – Attacked?" Marie gasped, putting a hand to her mouth. "My goodness … Oh, but you're hurt too! Please come in, I'll see to your shoulder. Thank you so much for saving Chanson… and Pierre too, I suspect."

Pierre had a look of mock hurt on his face. "Aw, Marie…"

"Ah… It's no problem," Noël replied, feeling thrown off balance by the obvious sincerity in her words.

Marie was having none of it. "Come on, inside before you all catch your death of cold." Marie ushered them all towards the steps, bringing up the rear behind Noël and Rudolph. Noël let himself be herded inside with a great feeling of reluctance. How many times in the past had he come up these stairs with Charles? Even the door was still the same, down to the scratch across the top where a rogue stone tossed up by a carriage had marked it.

"Noël, are you alright?" Rudolph whispered.

"Yeah." He lifted his hand from the cut on his shoulder, grimacing at the blood staining his glove. "My shoulder's fine."

_That's not what I meant and you know it_, Rudolph thought, brows lowering in disapproval. He was interrupted by their arrival at the door, following Pierre inside. Warmth washed over Noël as he stepped through the door, looking around. It still looked the same, but somehow … different. The house seemed brighter and filled with more energy than he remembered. He frowned as the sound of voices in another room reached his ears. _Voices? But…_

A boy with a head of fair hair poked his head around the corner, his eyes lighting up upon seeing the new arrivals. "Chanson! You're back!" He called over his shoulder to somewhere further back in the house. "Hey guys! Papa found him!" The blonde guy came fully into the room as Pierre let Chanson down, running over to clap a hand on the grey-haired boy's shoulder. "Back before the lamplighters, huh? Liar."

Chanson stuck his tongue out at the younger boy. "_Will_…" William laughed, slinging an arm around Chanson's shoulders. A younger girl clutching a bear peeked shyly into the room. Spying Chanson, she rushed across to hug him with a gleeful "Big brother!" thankfully choosing his non-injured side to tackle.

"Hey, Peel," Chanson replied, returning the hug.

Noël watched in astonishment as another three came racing into the room, crowding around Pierre and Chanson. The latter's sullenness couldn't stand up against the obvious excitement facing him; he smiled for the first time since their meeting. Pierre returned the hug of the brown-haired boy and ruffled the red locks of another, grinning widely. Noël blinked several times, wide-eyed, before edging closer to Pierre as the other man straightened. "Pierre…"

"Hmm?"

"… Are all these kids yours?"

"Huh?" Pierre looked around at Noël in shock, before laughing weakly. "No, no, nothing like that. Ah – hang on." He raised his voice. "Everyone, these are my friends – uh – Papa Noël and Papa Rudolph."

"Hullo~" chorused the gaggle of children with various degrees of enthusiasm. Noël blinked in surprise, managing to raise a hand and give a short wave.

"Hey," he replied weakly, echoed by a more enthusiastic "Hello~" from Rudolph as the Reindeer beamed. Pierre nodded, continuing on.

"S – Noël, Rudolph, this is William and his sister, Peel. The red-head is Oliver; the brunette Phillip; that's Ivy over there, and of course, you've already met Chanson." His hand rested on Chanson's head, making the boy scowl briefly.

"Come on, everyone, give them space," Marie ordered "Ivy, can you get the medicine kit, please?"

"What did you do yourself, Chanson?" Will laughed. Chanson grinned in reply.

"Oh yeah," the boy said suddenly. "Here ya go, Peel, for singin' so well this mornin'." Peel's eyes were wide as she accepted the lollipop, grinning up at the boy she called her older brother.

"Hey, hey, what about me? I sang too," William protested, poking Chanson in the arm.

"You call that horrible caterwaulin' singin'?" Chanson retorted. "I think the old 'uns on that street are still gettin' their hearin' back." They continued trading comebacks as William helped Chanson limp into the next room after Pierre had taken his coat and hat. Marie left them all, herding the children back into the other room and thanking Ivy as the younger girl brought the medicine.

As everyone filed out of the room, Pierre took his own coat off and hung it up along with his cap, gesturing for Noël and Rudolph to do the same. "Marie's gonna want to see to your shoulder, so it'll be easier without your coat."

Unable to argue with the logic of that, Noël added his white coat to the pile, revealing the white shirt and red vest he wore underneath. As Rudolph placed his fluffy scarf on the rack, Noël asked, "So, what do you mean, 'nothing like that'?"

"Your wife seems very nice," commented Rudolph. Pierre jumped, face going bright red.

"My – my wife? Marie? Ah, no, no, we're not married –"

"Then your girlfriend seems very nice," Noël replied, grinning at his friend's embarrassment. For a moment, caught up in teasing Pierre, it almost felt like nothing had changed. Then he remembered he didn't want to be here, didn't want to encourage the renewal of this friendship. _We'll both be better off that way._

Pierre hit Noël gently on his uninjured shoulder. "Marie isn't my girlfriend, idiot. She's a neighbour who's been helping me out for the past few years." He moved off into the house, talking over his shoulder. Noël and Rudolph followed, looking at the Christmas decorations hung around the house. "See, since you left, and with the fever that went through the city a few years ago, more kids have ended up on the streets I wanted to help them somehow. Then Marie suggested we join our houses together and take care of some of them… Ivy is the only one blood-related, she's Marie's niece. But we've been looking after the rest for about three-years now."

"So all the children here are orphans?" Rudolph asked, looking sad. Pierre looked back at him and nodded silently. "How awful…"

Chanson sat patiently as Marie finished cleaning the wound on his ankle. The cream she dabbed on it made the boy wince. As she bandaged it up again, Marie spoke to Chanson although she dressed Pierre and the others as well. "Luckily, the cuts aren't too deep, so it should heal quickly. Still, it's better to take it easy for the next few days, alright?"

"'Kay," Chanson mumbled. "Thanks." He hopped off the chair as soon as she was finished, limping over to join William and Peel.

Marie looked up, a smile at the corner of her mouth. "O~kay. Papa's turn. Please set a good example for everyone."

Pierre sighed and sat down, offering his arm for inspection. "Yes, Mama Marie." As Marie rolled his sleeve up, he looked up at Noël. "You're looking well." A pause. "Well, except for the shoulder. What's with the monocle, though? Has your eyesight gone bad in your old age?"

"Why, you –" Noël 'hmph'ed and readjusted said monocle. "I read. A lot. Amongst other reasons."

Rudolph, meanwhile, had found himself the object of Peel's unwavering stare. After a while, when it began to unnerve him somewhat, he crouched down beside her. "What is it?" he asked, voice gentle. Wide blue eyes continued to contemplate him in silence, until the young girl solemnly reached out a hand to pat him on the head. Rudolph blinked in surprise and the girl grinned abruptly, her entire face lighting up.

"Your hair is really soft and pretty," she whispered, as though imparting a great secret. Rudolph sweat-dropped, unsure how to take such an unexpected compliment.

"Ah, thank you …"

"There you go, all fixed up." Pierre flexed his arm, thanking Marie as he stood up. "Mr Christenbell, your turn."

"I'm fine," protested Noël. "And forget the 'Mr', just Noël is fine."

Rudolph looked over at his partner. "Noël, stop being stubborn, or else Holly will be after me for not protecting you better."

"How could I let an injured man leave here hurt on Christmas Eve?" Marie asked. "Please, stay as long as you need to. Any friend of Pierre's is a friend of mine."

Noël hesitated, looking between Marie and Rudolph before sitting down. "Fine." Not looking at Marie, he sat down, unbuttoning his shirt and vest far enough down to expose his shoulder. Marie winced in sympathy; the spikes of the whip had cut deep, while all around the skin was swollen and an angry red. The edges of the gash were already starting to turn a deep purple. _I don't want your sympathy…_ He hissed in pain despite Marie's efforts to be gentle.

"Mama, the cookies are ready!" red-haired Oliver called.

"I'll get it," Pierre said before Marie could move, lifting Oliver onto the bench and bending to open the oven.

"Thanks. Noël, can you lift your arm so I can bandage it properly?" Noël did as instructed, wincing as his shoulder protested. As she worked, Marie kept talking. "I realised I never introduced myself properly. I'm Marie Walker, Pierre's neighbour and I help him out with the children." She tied off the bandage. "There you go. Same as Chanson: take it easy for the next few days, okay?"

"Thank you. Rudolph, your turn." Noël's voice was wry. "Since your _burn_ is _quite bad_…" The Reindeer looked up from his seat on the floor, Peel busy playing with his hair.

"Peel, stop bothering the man," William said, coming over to rescue Rudolph. "Santa won't come if you're naughty."

Chanson snorted quietly, ignoring the stern look William gave him. Peel's big blue eyes looked up at the grey-haired boy. "Big brother, is that true?"

"Yeah." Chanson scratched his chin. "So you'd better go to bed straight away tonight, 'cos he only comes when you're asleep."

Noël and Rudolph exchanged amused glances as Marie bandaged up the Reindeer's arm.

"On that note, I think everyone should get to bed early tonight. The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner it's Christmas, right?" Marie smiled, tickling Phillip who giggled uncontrollably. "Oliver, did you get the food out for Santa?"

"Yup!" the boy said proudly. "Milk 'n' cookies, see?"

"But what about the reindeer?" Peel asked solemnly. "What do they eat? Won't they be hungry too?"

"I'm sure the reindeer will be happy to eat the cookies too," Pierre told the boy with a wink at Rudolph, who was trying not to laugh. "Marie, would you be able to see the kids to bed? I need to talk to Chanson."

Chanson looked apprehensive as a chorus of "Good night"s filled the room and the other children disappeared up the narrow flight of stairs. When they had gone, Pierre motioned the boy into the living room. He was followed by Noël and Rudolph, the former having retrieved his coat and cleaned the blood off it by magic.

The grey-haired boy perched on the edge of a seat, watching suspiciously as Rudolph examined the Christmas tree in the corner of the room, haphazardly decorated and clearly done by the entire 'family'. Noël looked around the room as he buttoned his coat up again. "I don't remember this room being in your house…"

"That would be because we're technically now in Marie's house, not mine," Pierre replied as he watched Noël pace around, poking up the fire in the grate as he talked.

_How long are they going t' sit here an' yatter?_ Chanson thought with a scowl. _I want t' know what's going on!_ "Oi! You still ain't answered me question!"

Noël half-turned to regard him with cool silver eyes. "And that was…?"

"What the 'ell is goin' on 'round 'ere?"

The blue-haired man sighed. "It's a pain, but I guess I'll have to start from the very beginning to explain. First things first, kid. I answer your questions, you answer mine. Got it?"

Chanson's face darkened. "Don't call me a kid; I'm fourteen an' two months!"

"It doesn't matter since I'm still older than you either way. Rudolph, stop admiring the tree and get back over here." It was the silver-haired man's turn to sigh as he moved over to lean beside the fireplace behind Noël. The fire in the grate crackled merrily, flames leaping and dancing. "Chanson was your name, right? Well, Chanson?"

"Chanson Libèrten," the boy replied stubbornly. "Pierre ain't me dad."

"I don't care. Do we have a deal?" Noël asked, any momentary relief that his earlier prayer had been answered destroyed as he resisting the urge to shake the kid. _This is why I hate kids, especially brats like him! _

"Fine." Chanson crossed his arms. "You know, I really don't like you."

Noël gritted his teeth, ignoring the smiles that both Pierre and Rudolph were trying to hide. "That makes two of us, kid. I hate annoying brats like you. Unfortunately," his voice grew louder at this point and he held up a hand to stop Rudolph, who seemed about to interrupt, "you're in a troublesome situation that I'm obliged to help with. Allow me to reintroduce myself. Noël Christenbell, 29th successor to the Santa Claus name of the North Pole. This is my Reindeer partner, Rudolph."

Chanson stared at him for a moment, the stretching silence broken only by the crackling of the fire. _Santa Claus … and a Reindeer …?_ "So, you're saying you're Santa Claus?"

"Yes, that's right." _And I would so cross you off my quota list if you ever appeared on it, brat._

"And that guy's a reindeer? He doesn't look like one."

"That's because I'm in my human form at the moment," Rudolph explained from behind Noël. "Pleased to make your acquaintance once again, Chanson."

More silence. Chanson looked from Noël to Rudolph and back again. The corner of his mouth twitched and his shoulders began to shake. _They have got to be kidding me… What kind of a lame joke is that? Everyone knows Santa is just a myth for little kids!_ A burst of scornful laughter escaped him, making Noël's hands clench in annoyance. "You're joking, right? I'm sure you impress the young 'uns with that, but I stopped believing in Santa when I was eight. There's no way something as stupid as that old myth could exist."

"Stupid myth, huh?" Noël's eyes were a bright, burning silver as he looked at Chanson. "Then what was that that attacked you?"

"How the hell would I know? Why don't _you_ tell _me_?" Chanson retorted.

"A cauchemar."

"What the hell is that?"

Noël sighed and glanced away, firelight playing over his suddenly sombre features. "They were once the souls of humans. Humans who suffered and killed themselves in their pain… That pain, that sadness from their life twisted their souls in death until they became monsters, set on attacking children who still had pure souls. Souls with a purity theirs now lacked." For a second, and old sadness, a note of old pain crept into his voice and expression. Noël's voice hardened as soon as he went on, making Chanson wonder if he had misheard that sour note amongst his words. "As a Santa Claus, it's one of my duties to fight these monsters and protest the children of the world."

Chanson was already shaking his head before Noël was finished. "I don't believe you. There's no way –"

"It's the truth."

All eyes swivelled towards Pierre, who sat forward as he met Chanson's gaze. "Cauchemar exist, Chanson. I met one once before, almost ten years ago." Out of the corner of his eye, Chanson saw Noël flinch and glare a warning at the mahogany-haired man. "Believe me, there's no reason Sa – Noël has to lie about this. It's his job, and Rudolph's. If that man was a cauchemar – of which I have no doubt, judging by his actions – then he was after you, Chanson."

"And they'll come after him again," Noël added, drawing everyone's attention once again. Even Rudolph looked surprised, tilting his head to the side slightly in a questioning manner.

"But cauchemar go after any child with a pure soul, right? They might go after anyone, not Chanson in particular," Pierre protested. "Plus … from what I remember Rudolph saying, all the successors have been found now, haven't they? So surely there's no reason for them to chase Chanson the way they did with –"

Noël cut in over the top of him. "The cauchemar – what did you say his name was, kid? Dacquoise? – seemed to be after him specifically. 'Damn you both, I'm after the kid, so just get out of my way!' was what I believe he said. And what he said when he disappeared also troubles me."

"But why are they after me?" Chanson cried. "I … I don't have a pure soul." _Too much has marked me for that. _"What could they possibly want with me?" Even as he spoke, Dacqx's voice sneered in his memory. '_You, brat, have something that belongs to me.'_

"What did Dacqx say to you before we turned up?" Noël demanded. Chanson looked away, mouth closed stubbornly. "He must have said _something_, all cauchemar talk too much." When Chanson still refused to answer, Noël grabbed his vest. "Speak, dammit!"

Pierre was up in a flash; his own hand gripping Noël's outstretched arm. His brown eyes were serious as they met furious silver. "Peace, Salt, it's been a hard night for the kid. No need to be rough."

'_You have a power that I want, and you're gonna give it to me even if I have to kill you to get it._' Chanson bit his lip. "He – he knew my name." He glared up at Noël, the latter still gripping the front of his vest. "He knew my _name_. He tried to kill me! I ain't got nothin' o' 'is! Not a god-blessed damn thin'!" Tears welled unshed in his eyes. "I don't believe anythin' you say! There's nothin' special 'bout me an' there never will! Leave me alone!" Chanson tore himself from Noël's grip and darted out of the room despite stumbling a bit at the doorway.

Pierre sighed into the silence left behind, dropping his grip on Noël's arm. "Well, that could have gone better… You were too harsh with him, Salt. What happened?"

"Don't call me Salt," Noël snapped, rubbing his arm. His gaze was directed at the door the boy had left through. "Do you think he'll accept it as truth with time?"

"Time he doesn't have, if you're right." Pierre sat back in his armchair. "Who knows? Chanson's been a difficult one from the start. It's almost impossible to figure out what he's thinking." _And arguing with him like that is the one sure way to put his back up._ "I must say, I find it a bit hard to believe myself. Why would they go after Chanson? Why haven't they gone after him before now?"

"Maybe they have and we just didn't know about it," Rudolph spoke up. The fire beside him leapt and flared; the patterns of light that played over Rudolph's face made him look somewhat sinister.

"Now that's a thought," Pierre sighed. Noël dropped onto the seat that Chanson had vacated, leaning back and closing his eyes. Rudolph's green eyes glowed in the firelight.

"What happened to Chanson?" the Reindeer asked. "How did he end up here?"

"Hmm…" Brows lowered, Pierre thought for a few seconds. "I … don't know much about his past," he replied slowly. "Chanson barely talks about himself and I'm not sure even his friend William knows much more than Marie and I do. From what I've heard, and what he told me, he was orphaned when his parents died of the fever that swept through the town six years ago. He's probably been living on the streets ever since until he came to live with us. He's a lot wilder than you were then, Salt. If it weren't for Will and Peel's persuasion, I doubt Chanson would have even accepted my offer for him to live here."

_An orphan on his own from that age?_ Noël wondered. _At least … at least I had Charles, when our parents died… Damn, I don't want to feel sorry for him!_ _Closing off from the world like that is stupid! I can't believe what I'm going to have to say… _Noël swallowed. "He needs to come with us."

"What?" both Pierre and Rudolph exclaimed. "Why?" Pierre continued; Rudolph merely leaned back, accepting Noël's judgement even if he didn't understand the reasoning. _Noël, you say you hate kids and that you never wanted to meet Pierre again, but you're willing to protect the child that Pierre watches over. Is it just duty? Or does the memory of Charles still haunt you?_

"Because he'll be safe at the North Pole," Noël explained. "Until we figure out why the cauchemar are after him. It doesn't feel normal."

"Chanson's too young to be going off like that," Pierre argued.

"I was the exact same age ten years ago!" Noël retorted, voice rising. "Dacqx told me, 'he will be ours soon enough.' Don't you think that Chanson's in danger? If you really want to act like a father, shouldn't you be concerned with his safety above all?"

Pierre's eyes narrowed. The momentary anger gave way to weariness almost instantly. "… If Chanson agrees to come, then I guess I can't stand in anyone's way. But you're not to take him there against his will. He has a family here, even if he doesn't acknowledge it."

"I'm not a kidnapper," Noël retorted. "He'd better come, though. No matter what he thinks, he has something the cauchemar are after, and they won't stop until they get it." '_He will be ours soon enough.' "_He won't be able to run and hide from them forever." His voice was bitter.

"Salt…" Noël didn't want to see the compassion in Pierre's eyes. For that matter, even Rudolph was looking at him with something akin to sad understanding. He turned away from both of them irritably.

"You know, you remind me a lot of Chanson. Or he reminds me of you."

Noël whirled around, silver eyes widening with confusion behind his monocle. "Huh? Me? Like that kid? How?"

"Well …" Pierre scratched his head. He hadn't actually intended to bring this up, but he'd just blurted out the first thing that had come to mind. _In for a shilling, in for a pound, I suppose._ "You're both silent. Neither of you share your feelings with others." _Which is a shame, because you used to be able to tell me anything._ "You both carry an invisible burden on your soul that you don't want others to see, and hate it when they do."

Noël snorted, blue hair falling across his eyes. "You haven't even seen me in ten years, Pierre. Don't make assumptions about me."

"Exactly." There were undercurrents in Pierre's quiet tone; controlled anger and hurt, demanding and questioning. "I haven't seen you in ten years. Why is that?"

"I've been busy –"

"And yet you have time to come every Christmas to see Charles!" Rudolph shot a 'told you so' look in his partner's direction, which Noël meticulously ignored.

"How do you know –?"

"You're not the only one who goes to see him, you know. Every year I'd see the things you left behind." The brunette's voice grew softer. "Look, I'm not attacking the fact that you visit him –"

"Like hell you have the right to, anyway!"

"Salt, calm down! I just want to know why you never bothered to see your best friend. Was it something I did? I really don't get it, Salt. Give me a good reason as to _why_ and I'll never ask again."

A long silence followed, winding around the two figures that stood silently staring at one another. Rudolph glanced from one to the other, noting the mulish stubbornness set in both features. He sighed mentally. _This is not good. I was _really_ afraid something like this would happen._

"…I'm not your friend Salt anymore," Noël said finally. "Please thank Marie for her hospitality." Before Pierre or Rudolph could react, the blue-haired mage had spun on his heel and stalked out of the room. The distant slam of the front door echoed in Pierre's mind as he stared after his former friend, now so far away for a reason that he could not understand.

_oOoOoOoOoOo_

_Chapter End_

_oOoOoOoOoOo_

_**Next Time****: Chapter 3 – O Come, All Ye Faithful**_

_Hunted by monsters from fairytales and refusing to turn to an old myth to help, if Chanson won't believe in his current situation then he'll just have to learn it the hard way … but at what price?_

_Like snowflakes that twirl in the winter breeze, their fates are no longer their own._

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As always, thanks for reading! :3


	3. O Come All Ye Faithful

Heyyy :D

So it seems there are people actually reading this story, wow, thank you! As an early New Year's present, here's the next chapter~~ Sorry it took so long, I wrote it a while ago and then completely forgot about it orz

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue. OCs are mine though :3

**Warnings:** Manga spoilers, I guess? Also very mild swearing.

Also, flowers go to Nanaga, for being an awesome beta as always :3

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to those who celebrate it! Everyone else, have an awesome week! Hope you enjoy the chapter~

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**Chapter 3: O Come, All Ye Faithful**

_It's high time you figured this out, kid:  
__Everything you thought you knew about 'Santa Claus'  
__Is nothing like the real thing._

_oOoOoOoOoOo_

"…_I'm not your friend Salt anymore."_

It was some time before Marie came back from putting the children to bed. Rudolph had left not long after Salt – _why __does __he __insist __on __being __called __Noël? __What__'__s __wrong __with__ '__Salt__'__?_ – had stormed out. Pierre didn't begrudge the silver-haired Reindeer for going; he knew Rudolph was worried about his partner. What had happened to the Salt that Pierre had known? _He __was __never __that __harsh. __His __bark __was __always __worse __than __his __bite, __but __now __they__'__re __both __equally __stinging. __How __could __he __change __so __much?_

Pierre sighed, rubbing his forehead wearily. _It__'__s __been __ten __years_, he reminded himself. _That__'__s __a __long __time. __Why __should __I __be __surprised __that __he__'__s __not __how __I __remember?_

"Oh? Where are Noël and Rudolph?"

He glanced up briefly at the sound of Marie's quiet voice before he went back to staring at the fire burning steadily lower in the grate. "They had to go somewhere. Noël said to thank you for your hospitality." _And __then __he __stormed __out __of __here. __Why __does __he __hate __me __so __much __now?_

"At this time of night? Will they be alright? We had room…" Marie sat down on Pierre's right, her brows knitted over liquid brown eyes filled with worry.

"They'll be fine. Salt just … Noël just had other places to be." _As __far __away __from __me __as __possible._ "After all, Christmas Eve is a very busy time for Santa and his reindeer."

Marie smiled. "Hush, or you'll wake the children if they so much as hear the word 'Santa' … Chanson came up a while ago; he's asleep now. He doesn't believe in Santa, you know. It's a shame."

Pierre's mouth twitched as he tried to look suitably sombre. _Well, __he__'__ll __be __learning __differently __if __Salt __has __anything __to __say __about __it._ His silent amusement died quickly as he saw the troubled frown on Marie's face. "What is it?"

Brown eyes met brown and held them. "Pierre, how did Chanson get those injuries? How did you get hurt? You were gone so long, I was so worried…"

Pierre reached over and squeezed her hand. "It'd take more than a street thug to get the best of me, Marie. Chanson too, I think." He fell silent, trying to figure out what to say. _It__'__s __so __matter-of-fact __for __Salt __and __Rudolph, __but __to __everyone __else __it __must __seem __so __surreal._ Marie waited patiently, trusting that her mahogany-haired friend would tell her the truth once he sorted it out. "I'm not entirely sure," Pierre began hesitantly. "I only got there at the end. But, Marie, Chanson was attacked tonight by something called a cauchemar. I told you about them once, do you remember?"

Marie's eyes had widened in surprise as Pierre began to talk, but at his question her brows lowered in thought. "The monsters that eat people's souls…?" she asked hesitantly, covering her mouth when Pierre nodded grimly. "They're _real_? Not just a story for curfew?"

"They're real." Memories of a time long past flickered in Pierre's mind's eye. "My best friend was hunted by them. It was because of them that his brother died." Pierre sighed heavily. "And now they're after Chanson…"

"After Chanson?" Marie repeated in horror. "But why?"

"I don't know … He has something they want, I guess. Noël didn't know either." At Marie's questioning look, Pierre raised an eyebrow. "Noël – no, Salt – that man is my best friend from all those years ago." A small gasp escaped his friend before he could continue. "The cauchemar were after his power back then – he's a Santa Claus. Rudolph is his Reindeer, they fight cauchemar." He gazed off into the fire. "Noël says that Chanson needs to go with them so he can be safe."

Marie stared at him for a long moment, taking it all in. She smiled weakly. "I'd say you were joking, but … you wouldn't lie to me about something like this."

"I wouldn't lie to you at all," Pierre replied. "You don't lie to people you trust, right?"

Her beaming smile was his reward for a few seconds. Then it trembled, anxiety flashing across her eyes like reflections of the dancing flames. "I … I'm worried, Pierre."

"I know. So am I. Chanson's in danger."

"No," she shook her head. "Not just Chanson. I'm worried for all of you."

"Even me?" Pierre teased to hide the swell of emotion in his chest. They were neighbours, friends and nothing more, but even so Marie really saw their mismatched group as a family.

Marie shoved him away lightly as he grinned. "You get in so much trouble all the time that I'm always worried about you." Her cheeks were a faint pink, although the room _was_ rather warm from the fire.

"I don't get in that much trouble anymore," Pierre protested. "I'm much more respectable now."

"Respectable in your old age?" she replied with a small grin, raising an eyebrow wickedly. Pierre raised one in reply – _Who __are __you __calling __old?_ – and stood up with a groan.

"Well, your elderly, respectable friend is going to go and filch a cookie before Santa comes and eats them," he said, stretching his back. "Care to help him hobble out to the kitchen?"

"Hobbling will build your character," Marie told him with a straight face, although her eyes twinkled with mirth. "I'm going to go to bed now. Try to leave Santa some cookies, at least." She patted his shoulder and skipped to the door. Pausing in the doorway, Marie turned around, hesitated and then said, "Pierre, if Chanson is in danger and your friend can help him … Will Noël come back?"

"Of course! It's Christmas Eve, isn't it? Santa Claus has to come and visit sometime." Reassured by his grin, Marie grinned back and waved.

"Good night," she called over her shoulder.

"Good night," he replied quietly, returning the wave. When Marie was out of sight, however, his hand slowed to a standstill and his face became sombre. _Well, __at __least __I __hope __he__'__ll __come __back__… __Salt __is __so __different __now __to __the __boy __I __knew. __But__… __he __can__'__t __have __changed __completely, __right? __There__'__s __still __hope __of __finding __him. __Who __he __used __to __be._

_Please, Salt._

___oOoOoOoOoOo_

It was the sound of footsteps above him that woke Pierre out of the uncharacteristic gloom he had fallen into, staring into the fire moodily as it burned itself down to embers. For a moment he stared upwards, wondering if it had been his imagination and was just about to return to his brooding when the _tap-creak_ came again. With a small groan, Pierre pulled himself to his feet and headed towards the stairs. _Maybe __Phillip __is __having __trouble __sleeping __again,_ he mused as he passed the kitchen. _Or __maybe__…_ Brown eyes that saw surprisingly well in the gloom fell upon the plate of cookies left out for 'Santa'. Pierre snagged two of them on his way past and headed up the stairs quietly. In this part of the house, _his_ house, he knew his way around from memory and had no need for any kind of light. His caution was more for the sake of not waking the children rather than surprising any would-be thief – Pierre knew most of the thieves that worked his neighbourhood and besides, no thief would break into a house full of kids even if it had something of value. As a result of these two reasons, Pierre (and Marie as well by virtue of being his friend) had less cause to worry about robbers than most in their part of the city.

Up on the second floor, Pierre checked on everyone. Oliver and Phillip were fast asleep, the red-head snoring quietly. Pierre grinned as he pulled the door further over and tip-toed away. He glanced across to the room that Will and Peel shared with Chanson. Once again, Peel had abandoned her bed to sprawl across her brother's, something the boy put up with surprisingly well even though he was left with only a small part of the bed to himself. Those two slept so deeply that they wouldn't have noticed a riot going past; the extra care the older man was now putting into being quiet was for the grey-haired boy's sake. Chanson slept lightly, so lightly that there had been several times when Pierre had woken him simply by opening the door to check on them all. It wasn't that surprising a habit: no doubt it came from his time living on London's streets, where a boy could run into trouble if he let down his guard.

_If __he __let __down __his __guard._ There was one of the problems: Chanson wouldn't let down his guard when there were adults or anyone older than himself around. He remained closed off to everyone, Marie as much as Pierre and the two of them only slightly less than total strangers.

He sighed. _With __time, __maybe, __he__'__ll __come __to __trust __us._

_I hope._

That left only Ivy, Marie's niece, who was staying with them while her parents travelled to the other side of the country for some reason or another. Still, Ivy slept in Marie's room, so Marie would be taking care of her if she couldn't sleep.

So who was walking around up here?

Another shuffle, coming form the end of the hallway where a door led to a small balcony that overlooked the street. Pierre's mother had badgered his father for two entire months until the man had given in and built it; the young Pierre had liked to sit there and watch people go by. The older Pierre liked to go there to think.

He had an inkling of who it might be the moment all the children had been accounted for, so it was with only a small degree of surprise that he found Rudolph pacing around outside when he poked his head out the door.

The Reindeer turned around as Pierre came fully outside and shut the door behind him. There was guilt in the green eyes as he said, "Pierre… I hope I didn't wake you up?"

"Nah," the mahogany-haired man said, shaking his head as he came to lean on the railing beside Rudolph. "I was still awake anyway. I thought it might have been you." Mutely, he offered one of the cookies he stolen from downstairs. A smile tugged at the Reindeer's mouth as he accepted it with quiet thanks. Pierre turned around and leant backwards on the railing as he gazed up at the stars instead of the streets below, biting into the second cookie. "Where's Salt?"

Rudolph, who had been happily munching on the sweet, shook his head sadly at Pierre's question. "He's not back yet."

"I hope he's alright…" Pierre said quietly, brows knitted together with concern.

Green eyes studied the man beside him. So different to the youth he had met so briefly a decade ago and yet so unchangingly the same. _Even __after __being __ignored __by __his __best __friend __for __years, __he__'__s __worried __about __him. __Noël, __can__'__t __you __see __that __no __matter __what __you __do, __Pierre __will __always __be __your __friend?_ Rudolph sighed mentally at his Santa Claus' stubbornness. _Was __Klaus-sama __always __this __obstinate? _Aloud, he replied, "If it's Noël, I'm sure he'll be fine."

"Yeah…" Pierre's voice trailed off, concern still etched in his features. Deciding that Pierre had a right to know, Rudolph expanded on what he'd said earlier.

"I think Noël has gone back to the North Pole to tell them about Chanson and the situation here. He should be back in a day or so."

Pierre blinked. "The North Pole?" _Well, __it __makes __sense __that __they__'__d __live __there, __I __guess__…_ _Wait._ "In one night? By himself?"

Rudolph laughed, causing the other man to jump slightly in surprise. It was such a bright and cheerful sound, making Pierre realise that he'd never actually heard the silver-haired man laugh before. _The __situation __was __always __so __serious__…_ He shook his head, returning his attention back to Rudolph as the Reindeer began to speak.

"Noël's using magic to teleport himself there and back," he explained. "So it'll only take him the time to explain things to everyone else."

"Salt can… teleport…?" Pierre knew that he must look stunned; he certainly felt it. _Salt, __using __magic? __To __teleport?_ "Why aren't you there with him, though?"

Rudolph sighed. "The Santa Clauses are the ones who handle the magic, Pierre, not us Reindeer. Since Noël left before I could get there, I can't follow." _Which __isn__'__t __exactly __the __truth_, the Reindeer apologised mentally to the other man.

"_Someone needs to go and tell everyone about this kid, and I don't like leaving him unprotected in case another cauchemar comes to call," Noël said briskly, his back to Rudolph as he took his compass from a pocket. "So Rudolph, you should stay here 'til I get back. Keep him safe."_

_Rudolph nodded. "I will." Still, he wasn't sure about Noël going alone. "Noël, are you –?"_

"_Yeah, I'm sure," Noël answered before his partner could finish, activating the compass with his magic to transform it into his staff. He'd heard that phrase so often it was easy to guess when it was coming. "I won't be in any danger, but that kid might be, and so might Pi – all those other kids with him."_

Yep, he's worried about Pierre as well. _Rudolph __couldn__'__t __help __smiling __to __himself. __Noël __scowled __as __if __he __could __hear __his __partner__'__s __thoughts._

"_I won't be gone long. Keep them all safe, Rudolph." It was hard to tell in the bluish glow his staff was emitting, but Rudolph thought Noël's face might have gone slightly red as he commanded, "And don't tell Pierre I said that!"_

_With a flash of blue light, the Santa Claus disappeared._

Pierre was still frowning. "Wait, so Salt just went without you?"

"He'll be back."

"Will he?" Pierre asked suddenly, sadness in his voice and in his expression. "He's avoided me for the past ten years. What's to stop him doing it again?"

"Pierre…" Rudolph stopped, unsure what to say. "Pierre, he _is_ worried about you all, no matter what he says. I just don't think he likes to show it."

"That sounds like Salt," Pierre replied with a lopsided smile. He sighed suddenly, head drooping. "I guess I just never thought there'd be a day when he'd close me out too. I thought we were friends."

"You two still _are_ friends."

"I wish I could say that with as much certainty, Rudolph … but why did he never come back?"

Rudolph shrugged. "I… don't really know, Pierre. Noël's… changed since then, I think, although I don't know what he was like before. But I'm worried about him as well. He's never cried once since that day, no matter what happened and also…" He hesitated. "All the other successors, they all seem so _open_, although I'm sure they have secrets they keep hidden as well. Noël …"

The conversation lapsed into silence as the Reindeer trailed off, both of them falling into their own thoughts. Pierre stared up at the full moon. He was surprised that Rudolph would confide even this much in him, considering they hadn't really spoken much the last time they'd met. Something that had been nagging at him all this time came to mind. "…Hey, Rudolph? Why do you call him 'Noël' anyway?" _Considering __he __basically __exploded __whenever __I __tried __to __call __him __Salt._

"Because that's what he told us to call him." At Pierre's questioning look, the silver-haired man sighed. "I don't really get it myself, but … I don't think he wanted anything that connected him to his past anymore. So he changed names."

_Is __that __why __he__'__s __avoiding __me __then? __Because __I __remind __him __of __his __past?_ Pierre's eyes sparked with determination. _Well, __Salt, __you__'__re __not __getting __rid __of __me __that __easily!_ "Huh. Well, I know Salt, not Noël, so that's what I'll call him." _And __if __it __annoys __him, __well, __at __least __he __isn__'__t __ignoring __me __completely, __then._

Rudolph covered a smile with his hand. _It __looks __like __Noël __isn__'__t __the __only __one __who __is __stubborn __to __the __core._ "You look after the children well," he said, changing the subject. "They seem happy."

"Really?" Pierre was pleasantly startled. "I'm just fumbling my way along, really. Marie knows way more about looking after kids than I do. I guess 'cause she has a little sister; I was an only child."

_Hm. __He __said __Marie __isn__'__t __his __girlfriend, __so__…_ "How did you end up looking after them all, anyway?" Rudolph inquired, genuinely curious.

Pierre chuckled as he shifted positions, mirroring the Reindeer's pose as he looked at the street below. "Like I said, it was Marie's idea. Will and Peel joined us while we were still fixing up the house. Those two and Phillip we adopted legally from the orphanage – Will and Peel were having problems there, if I remember rightly… Oliver and Chanson, though, they are – _were_ – street kids, not on any of the city registers so there's nothing we can sign or anything that would hold up if the law tried to take them away. There's so many more; I'd take them all in if I could, but…" Pierre sighed. "Not even the Queen's palace could house them all, I think." A yawn escaped him. "So, Salt will be back?" At Rudolph's nod, Pierre looked thoughtful. "Actually, I guess we won't see either of you tomorrow though, hmm? It being Christmas Day and all."

"Yes, that's right," Rudolph nodded. "We'll be busy."

"Well, there's more cookies on the kitchen table waiting for Santa and his Reindeer, so feel free to eat them," Pierre laughed. "Marie's cooking is the best in London, if I do say so myself." He stood up and stretched with a yawn as Rudolph grinned. "I think I'll head off to bed now. Do you want to sleep?"

"No, I'll wait up for Noël," Rudolph told him. Pierre nodded and clapped the Reindeer on the shoulder. "Rudolph? Thanks." The silver-haired man didn't need to ask what he was being thanked for; Pierre could see he knew. He hesitated and then continued, "I'm sorry, too." A crooked smile appeared at Rudolph's questioning look. "For stealing your bag all those years ago." _Although __if __we __hadn__'__t, __what __would __have __happened __to __Salt?_

"Don't worry about it," Rudolph told him, green eyes amused. "There's no need to apologise." _Thanks __to __that, __I __found __my __partner. __If __anything, __it__'__s __you __two __I __am __sorry __for._ The amused smile became serious as he watched Pierre walk back inside. Rudolph waited until the door had closed before sighing. "You were listening, Noël?"

There was a muffled clatter as the blue-haired man dropped onto the roof and swung down onto the balcony, landing beside his partner easily. "Don't be ridiculous," Noël huffed, adjusting the monocle so that it sat straight. "Why would I want to do something like that?"

"Why indeed," Rudolph replied non-committally. "How did it go?" Noël wouldn't admit to eavesdropping even if he had been.

It was Noël's turn to sigh, rubbing his temple gently. "Well, I told them. Everyone's just as clueless as we are as to _why_ the cauchemar might be after this kid in particular." Silver eyes looked up at the moon, gleaming in the reflected light. "Anyway, it's time to go take care of the other part of our job: I brought the list of names we've been assigned."

"Oh, where are we going this year?"

"Spain, France, a few places in Russia and I think there's a few kids in Australia that Nick can't get to…" Noël riffled though the sheets of paper he held. "I want to get this done as soon as possible so we can get back here. Renne said he'd keep an eye out while he was on his rounds here tomorrow, but…" His eyes darkened. "I don't want to give those bastards any more chances to go after Chanson than I have to." _I__'__ll __never __let __those __cauchemar __get __what __they __want. __Not __after __what __they __did. __Especially __not __when __they__'__re __after __a __kid._

"Well, I guess we had better get started then," Rudolph commented, standing up. He grinned, eyes sparkling. "After all, Santa can't keep the children waiting when it's Christmas, can he?"

_oOoOoOoOoOo_

_The __only __problem __with __sleeping __by __the __window __is __being __woken __up __by __the __sun __every __morning_, Chanson grumbled to himself as he sat up groggily. When he'd first come here, Will had given up the window-side bed to his friend, guessing accurately that Chanson would prefer to sleep by an exit. While over the past few months the grey-haired boy no longer needed a quick escape route should an attacker appear – always a danger to a young boy sleeping alone on the street – Chanson still used it as a way to get out of the house without anyone else noticing. _Still, __shouldn__'__t __need __it __this __mornin__'__. __Everyone__'__s __still __abed __from a__ll __the __Christmas __festives __yesterday._

Blue eyes fell on the bed across the room: Chanson had to smile at the sight. _Looks __like __Peel__'__s __taken __over __the __bed __again, __ha!_ Quietly, he slipped his feet out of the covers and padded the few steps across the room to the chest of drawers that held all their clothes. It creaked as he pulled out his drawer, making him wince. _So __much __for __quiet__…_

"Chanson?" a voice asked sleepily. Will sat up slightly, rubbing his eyes tiredly but awake enough to be careful not to disturb his sister."Wha'cha doin'? You aren't goin' out, are you?"

"Don't worry, Will, I ain't goin' far," Chanson replied, voice muffled as he pulled off his nightshirt and changed into fresh clothes, skin pebbling from the cold in the moments between. "Lookin' for work is all I'm doin'."

"Lookin' for trouble, more like," William sighed in exasperation. "_Chanson. _It's not like you need t' steal anymore. Mama and Papa aren't that poor."

"Shows what you know. Things change quick sometimes and then where'd we be?" Chanson retorted, grabbing his vest. His fingers brushed over the star sewn into the shoulder gently before he put it on. "'Sides, it's so soon after Christmas, it'll be more like goin' for a walk. An' walkin's not 'gainst the law, is it?"

The blonde sighed. "Whatever. Take care at least, Chanson." Chanson grinned as his friend burrowed back under the covers. "Make sure you tell Papa or Mama where you're goin'" was his muffled parting comment.

"Yes, Mama," Chanson teased and slipped out the door. He peeked into Pierre's room as he passed, saw the man was still asleep and sighed in relief. Ever since that strange conversation a day ago, Chanson didn't know what to say to the man. _He __thinks __them __cosh-monster __things __are __real? __Ha! __They__'__re __just __make-believe, __trying __t__' __make __me __do __what __they __want. __Dacqx __was __just __a __nutter._

_A __nutter __that __could __wield __lightning,_ his mind reminded him. Chanson shook his head as he ghosted down the stairs, sighing a breath of relief on finding that Marie wasn't up either. _Good. __I __can __slip __out __unnoticed._ His coat, scarf and hat were all still where he'd put them last night, so he grabbed them and let himself out the door quietly.

If he felt apprehensive about going out alone, he squashed _that_ feeling immediately. _No __monster__'__s __goin__' __t__' __grab __me._ Besides, he'd been surrounded by people all yesterday. He needed some time by himself to think.

It was still early enough that the street sweepers hadn't cleared away much of the snow yet, so it was with some delight that Chanson had in walking around the sweepers to create prints in the fresh snow. _I __put __up __with __their__ '__Christmas__' __so __they __can __deal __with __me __going __out __this __mornin__'_, he reasoned. _And __that __blue-haired __guy __is __a __nutter __too, __just __like __Dacqx. __Goin__' __on __about __monsters __and __reindeer __and __that __he__'__s __Santa __Claus. __Idiot. __Something __like __Santa __Claus __doesn__'__t __exist. __What __did __he __say __his __name __was? __Noël? __Not __that __it __matters._ The man hadn't turned up at all yesterday or the silver-haired man that had been with him. "And good riddance too," the grey-haired boy muttered, shoving cold hands in coat pockets as he trudged up the street.

He only managed to pick a single purse – coppers only – and an apple from one vendor who'd come to set up early in the hope that people would want to replenish their food stocks immediately after yesterday's Christmas meal.

It was about the same time that he bit into the apple that he noticed both brown-haired Kaylin ahead and sensed someone watching him. Forcing himself to keep walking normally, he thought rapidly. _If __it__'__s __a __police__ '__un, __I__'__m __clean__… __Not __many __people__ '__round __at __the __moment, __so __I__'__ll __have __t__' __lose __who ever __it __is __in __the __streets. __First __of __all, __though__…_ "Oi! Kaylin!"

The thin, waif-like girl turned around, hefting the basket she carried higher on her thin shoulder. "Chanson!" she said happily, her face lighting up. "Merry Christmas! Well, a day late, anyway."

"Same to you," Chanson replied, matching his step to hers. "What'cha doin'? Deliverin'?"

"Ha! Not fer the likes o' me," Kaylin replied. "Gettin' firewood. Dad's got the headache from drinkin' and wants 'is warmth." She showed him the odds and ends of wood and straw scraps in her basket.

Chanson, having seen the girl on such errands before, nodded and was struck with a sudden thought. "Hey, you eaten yet?" When she shook her head, Chanson nodded again thoughtfully. "Stay here a moment." The black coat disappeared into the swirl of early risers who were just beginning to venture onto the streets. He came back a minute later with two buns and another apple, all of which he handed to the girl. "'Ere, eat."

"You're very good at that," she commented, handing him one of the buns back.

"Practice," he grinned. "Come on, I'll walk you home." The hairs on the back of his neck were still on end. _Damn, __they__'__re __still __watchin__'__, __whoever _they _are. __Go __away, __ya __nosy __bastards!_

The walk to Kaylin's house was quick. Much better, it was in a part of town that Chanson knew extremely well, down to every nook and cranny. As soon as Kaylin was out of sight and out of potential harm, he started walking down the street as though everything were fine. Chanson turned the corner, glancing back as he adjusted his scarf to hide that fact. He dismissed the two beggars on the other side of the street straight away: he knew them both by sight if not name and neither of them ever left their street. But … _There! __That __blonde __man__ '__restin'__' __by __the __wall, __hunched __against __the __cold. __There __ain__'__t __no __reason __for __anyone __t' __loiter __here __who __don__'__t __live __here __or __ain__'__t __a __beggar._ Plus, there was something about the man that made Chanson finger his hidden knife warily. He picked up the pace, turning down another street and then another. His ankle began to throb quietly, reminding him that it had had barely a day to heal and still had some ways to go. He ignored it as the crunch of footsteps followed him, stopping when he did and speeding up with his own.

_Alright, __if __that__'__s __how__ '__e __wants __t__' __play __it__…_ Chanson growled, glancing back and finding the blonde man _still_ behind him. The grey-haired boy pulled his cap low and ducked into a side alley, dashing down it as fast as his injured ankle would allow and into another alley. He heard the footsteps pick up speed behind him and darted down yet another alleyway –

– Only to curse as he skidded to a stop in front of a tall wall. _Since __when __was __this __street __blocked __off? __Dammit! __I__'__m __trapped!_ Blue eyes searched quickly. Both the wall before him and the houses to either side were too high to climb, a conclusion he came to just as crunching snow heralded his pursuer's arrival.

Chanson scowled at the blonde man, hand going to the belt knife he wore in case of situations like these. _So __much __for __just __a __peaceful __walk__…_ "Oi, you. Who are you?"

"Hmph. You don't recognise me? Figures." Chanson gaped as the man _shimmered_, his shape blurring until blue-haired Noël stood before him.

"You!" Chanson exclaimed. "What the 'ell are you doin' followin' me? An' 'ow'd you do that?"

"You ask too many questions, brat," Noël snapped. "Especially for one who just ran the length of London." He took a seat on a nearby barrel, glaring at Chanson in such a way that told the younger boy that he would not be amused if Chanson tried to make a run for it. "For your information, I specialise in illusion magic. I disguised myself to make sure you didn't try anything rash today and just as well I did! Are you an idiot, to go out alone without telling anyone when you _know_ there are others after you?"

"Not this stupid cosh-monster thing again," Chanson snapped. "It's stupid! Who'd believe it? I dunno how you got Pierre to work with you, but I ain't buyin' it! 'M not stupid!"

"Well, you're giving a good impression of it at the moment!" Noël growled in response, before pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Look, kid –"

"_Chanson_."

"Chanson, then. I don't care if you don't believe me. I told you that, didn't I? It's still true. Cauchemar are still after you, whether you think they exist or not. I don't particularly care for protecting a brat like you, but I will _not_ give the cauchemar what they want, and it seems at the moment that happens to be _you_." Noël's voice grew angry again. "And you were risking all that – for what? The chance to pick a few pockets?"

"Well, 'scuse me, Mr _Santa_," Chanson said, scorn tinging the title. "Some of us 'ave t' if we want t' eat. You 'ave a problem with me bein' on the liftin' lay?" _Like __I __care __what __you __think __anyway!_

"I dislike people who trick other people," Noël said tightly. That note of sadness flashed across the unnaturally silver eyes once again, gone too quickly to fully identify. Chanson was growing too angry to care anyway. _Who __does__ '__e __think__ '__e __is, __just __comin__' __out __o__' __the __blue __and __tellin__' __me __how __I __should __act?_

"What the 'ell is that?" he retorted scornfully. "Didn't you say _you_ used illusion magic?" _Not __that __I __believe __magic __exists, __but __if __I __have __t__' __play __your __game__…_ "Ain't that just based on trickin' people?"

"In order to see through an illusion you need to be able to cast that illusion yourself," Noël replied tightly, teeth gritted as he readjusted his monocle. "A cauchemar illusion once cost someone close to me their life. I don't want that ever happening again."

'_E__ – __what?_ Chanson blinked, unsure of what he'd heard. _Cauchemar __ain__'__t __real, __right? __So __how __could __they __kill _anyone_?_ He took a slow step backwards, eyeing the blue-haired man warily. Noël didn't seem to notice, taking advantage of the boy's silence to press on. "And to make sure they don't kill you too, you need to come back to the North Pole with Rudolph and I." Silver eyes narrowed as the grey-haired boy burst out laughing. "I fail to see what's so funny."

"You!" Chanson replied, tugging his scarf back into position. "This! Everythin'! The _North __Pole_? You're kidding me, right?" _Fever __dream_. "Can't you 'ear yourself? What part of it could possibly be…?" The amusement in his voice died down as Noël continued to stare at him. "You're serious, ain't you?"

"Finally he gets it," Noël muttered.

Chanson was already shaking his head. "Crazy, that's what you are! Are you kiddin' me? The 'ell I'm just goin' t' come with you with only your say-so to prove it!"

There was a strange sense of déjà vu in the air as Noël snapped in reply, "Kid, if you don't come, you're gonna be in danger! There's no other way!"

"Don't just decide that yourself! I don't want t' go, and I ain't goin'! Gimme one reason that I can believe why I should!" Noël was silent, frowning and apparently deep in thought. "See? There ain't even one believable reason why –"

"Chanson, shut up."

"Why the 'ell, you –!"

"Shut up _now!_" Noël yelled, blue light flaring in one hand as he jumped off the barrel in a flash, other hand reaching out to knock Chanson down into the snow. Chanson hit the ground none too gently, a stone hidden beneath the snow grazing his cheek. With a growled curse, he pushed himself up angrily.

"Damn you, don't just go knockin' people… down…" Chanson trailed off, sapphire eyes widening as they finally saw what Noël had noticed already: two shapes blocking the alley entrance and three more perched on the roofs around them. They _were_monsters; there was no other word for it. Chanson scrambled back in uncontrollable fear as he got a better look at the giant forms, white and grey and red and gold and _nothing __like __what __humans __would __look __like__ – _

_What the hell?_

"So, they finally turned up," he heard Noël mutter as the man shifted sideways to plant himself once again directly between Chanson and the new arrivals. With a start, Chanson noticed that Noël now held the same sapphire-gemmed staff he had when he had come to Chanson's rescue last time. _Is __that __what __the __blue __light __was? __Where __did __it __even __come __from?_

_Two, __four, __five__… __Damn. __At __least __they__'__re __fairly __low-level __ones, __so __I __can __probably __take __them __all __on __by __myself__…_ Noël swung his staff up into a defensive position and raised his voice, addressing all of the cauchemar. "You can't have him." _Having __to __protect __this __kid __is __gonna __hamper __me, __though._ A rustle of cloth made Noël glance behind him quickly, only to see Chanson getting to his feet. "Stay down, kid. I can protect you better if you aren't getting under my feet all the time," he said quietly. Chanson snorted, unsheathing a belt knife from somewhere, the blade looking battered but still razor sharp.

"I don't need you t' nursemaid me." The boy's words were sharp, his brows lowered in a dark scowl, but the glimmer of fear in his eyes and the white knuckles from gripping his knife too tightly betrayed his true emotions.

Any reply Noël intended to make was lost in a growl as the cauchemar on the roof, bored of waiting, leapt towards them. The gem in his staff flashed and he swept in downwards in a long slicing motion. Two of the cauchemar were quick and managed to dodge it but the third was not so lucky: it collapsed, split in two from head to toe before it evaporated into black mist. Chains snaked towards the two humans, striking sparks against the barrier of light that suddenly surrounded Noël and Chanson.

"Why Santa fight?" came a deep rumbling voice; it took Chanson a moment to realise that it came from one of the monsters. "No need. Only want boy-child."

"Only boy," another nodded in agreement. Chanson felt his blood run cold as more voices joined in, mumbling and gravelly.

"Give boy over."

"Give him."

"Or we take, okay?"

"Take boy."

"Like hell that's gonna happen!" Noël snapped. "Why are you even after him, anyway? He's just a pipsqueak." He ignored Chanson's glare, squinting through the rippling light of his barrier. _One, __two, __three__… __Where__'__s __the __other __one? __There __were __two __at __the __entrance._

"We were told to get boy."

"Get him, okay?"

"But _why_?" Noël repeated. If he could just keep them all distracted for a few moments longer while he gathered the energy for his next spell…

"Macaron say so."

Nods. "He say take boy."

"Take him."

_Macaron?_ the Santa Claus had time to wonder before the ground exploded underneath him, tossing him and Chanson into the air. Noël smashed into the brick wall, his vision going white for a few seconds as pain flared across his entire body. His staff had been knocked out of his grip with the explosion – he saw it lying in the snow a few feet away as he pushed himself up the wall, ears ringing. No; not an explosion, he realised grimly, understanding where the missing cauchemar had gone. _It __burrowed __underground __to __get __past __my __barrier, __dammit! __No __wonder __they __were __so __talkative!_

A horrible thought occurred to him. If it had burrowed up under his barrier –

Silver eyes cast around wildly, spotting at least two of the cauchemar bearing down on a feebly stirring patch of black. "Chanson!" Noël screamed. "Get up!" _My __staff__ –__!_ He snatched it up out of the snow and muttered a command. A pulse of energy flared around one of the cauchemar, swirling around it like a blizzard until it froze solid and shattered. Noël turned his attention to the other one as Chanson staggered to his feet. Unlike Noël, Chanson had kept a hold of his knife despite being thrown into a wall and now held it out in front of him in such a way that he could block _or_ attack. The blade flashed as a cauchemar reached out a hand for the boy; Noël watched the monster rumble back in amazement, blood gushing from a long cut.

Something cold wrapped around his body, trapping his arms to his side tightly. Noël looked down, startled as more chains slithered around his body to hold him. He cursed; while he'd been distracted, one of the remaining cauchemar had snuck up on him.

"Santa not interfere," the cauchemar growled. "Kill you."

"Kill you and take eyes," another added. The cauchemar controlling the chains growled in agreement, closing its hand into a fist. The chains around Noël's body tightened, squeezing the breath out of him. He let out a strangled cry as the cauchemar around him laughed at his pain, the pain that was going to crack his bones and crush him to death. The brick wall at the end of the alley flickered as he groaned, before it disappeared entirely.

Chanson's head snapped around at Noël's scream of pain; it went on and on and on without the Santa seeming to draw breath. _They__'__re __killin__' __him!_ Was the grey-haired boy's only thought, horror seeping through him as he watched the heavy coils of chains around the blue-haired man's chest tighten mercilessly. If they killed him –

– _I __can__'__t __defeat __them __by __myself_–

– _I __won__'__t __let __anyone __die_ –

"Stop it, you _bastards_!" he shouted, anger and fear welling up in his chest and bursting out in a white heat with his words. Even as the last sound left his mouth, his right hand was already snapping forward, sending the knife he held spinning straight for the cauchemar holding the ends of the chains. "Let 'im go!"

Whether stunned by such a foolish action on the young boy's part or just distracted, the cauchemar failed to dodge aside in time and the knife blade struck it directly in the heart. It screeched, a high-pitched unearthly sound that hurt Chanson's ears and exploded into a dark mist. The chains around Noël melted, letting the Santa drop to his knees in the snow. Chanson only had a single second of relief before another giant hand slammed him into the wall. _Damn, __I __forgot __about __the __one __near __me!_ Without a weapon, Chanson had no way to defend himself. Sensing this, the cauchemar, a giant thing of green and white, advanced on him slowly as Chanson scrambled backwards.

Noël gasped for breath, his mind reeling and his lungs burning. Something warm and gentle had brushed past his skin at the boy's shout, stealing some of the pain from his chest. The cauchemar had felt it too, he was sure of it – the chains had loosened for a moment before Chanson's knife struck home, weakened by whatever Noël had only brushed. The snow beneath him was half-melted and slushy but still icy cold, soaking his knees and coat and pooling around his staff –

_My staff._

Automatically, he grabbed it and lurched to his feet, bruised lungs still protesting as he coughed. Where was Chanson? "Chanson!"

"Argh!" came a cry to his left. Chanson was backing away from another cauchemar, a ragged tear across the front of his coat. With a cry of pain, his already injured ankle gave out and dumped the boy on his backside in the snow, the cauchemar looming over him.

"No!" muttered Noël, raising his staff. He was forced to jump back as a cauchemar swung down in front of him, jagged teeth gleaming in a predatory grin.

"Santa not interfere or I eat your eyes, okay?"

"Damn you, just get out of my way!" Noël snapped. "Chanson!" No matter how he tried, however, he couldn't get past the cauchemar blocking his path. "Move! Chanson!'

"You die now, okay?" the cauchemar said cheerfully. Noël threw himself to the side as it raised a fist and smashed it into the wall where he had been standing only moments ago.

"Not today, I'm not," Noël muttered." _Don__'__t __you __dare __die __before __I __can __reach __you, __kid!_

_I__'__mgonnadieI__'__mgonnadieI__'__mgonnadie_ Chanson's mind babbled in an endless stream as he stared up at the huge monster in front of him. _These __monsters __are __goin__' __t__' __eat __me__…__!_ He shut his eyes tightly.

'_Chanson, did you have a nightmare again? Ssh, they can't hurt you… Here, did you know? If you sing this song, it'll scare away any bad monsters in your dreams. Come on, I'll teach you… If you sing this, you'll be safe, I promise.'_

"Boy come with us, we take you to Macaron," he heard the monster say. Chanson scooted back, eyes still tightly closed, hands clapped over his ears to block out that terrible voice.

"Stay away!" he shouted. His bruised back protested as it struck rough brick; Chanson had nowhere left to run. "Don't come near me!"

'_You'll be safe, I promise.'_

He didn't know why he started singing it; it wasn't as though he thought it would work. However, he didn't have any better options. It was a foolish fantasy: these nightmares were _real_, couldn't be sung away or forgotten in a lyrical flow. His voice, rusty after so long without singing and made hoarse from yelling squeaked as he tried to stutter out the first line. "G – go away, e – evil d – dreams…"

_Come __on, __lackwit! __Sing __it __properly, __can__'__t __you?_ Chanson scolded himself. He cleared his throat and tried again, fear making his heart beat thunder loudly like a sped-up metronome.

"_Go __away, __evil __dreams,  
__Things aren't what they seem,  
__Go away and leave my dream's sight,  
__Far from me this blessed night."_

Noël heard Chanson's quavering voice as the cauchemar in front of him raised its fist once more to strike. _What __on __earth __is __he __doing?_ the Santa wondered, shaking his fringe out of his eyes. He'd lost his monocle somewhere, although that was the least of his worries. _At __least __I __know __he__'__s __alive __if __he__'__s __singing._

Chanson's voice was growing stronger as his fear flowed out through his voice, leaving him feeling calmer. He repeated the same verse over and over, waiting for a hand to grab him, for pain, for _something_.

It was Noël who noticed it first, since he had kept his eyes open. Actually, it would have been more accurate to say the _cauchemar_ noticed it first; the one blocking Noël's way had paused, its arm still raised to smash down upon him; but now it appeared – transfixed – by something. Taking the offered opportunity, Noël raised his staff and whispered a word; the cauchemar exploded into a flurry of snowflakes that drifted around him like a whirlwind.

A gleam of light drew his attention to his lost monocle, miraculously unbroken in the trampled snow. He jammed it on his nose and looked around, silver eyes widening as they found the boy huddled against the brick wall. He was still singing; his voice losing its trembling quality as the boy lost himself in the song. It was a beautiful singing voice despite the plainness of the song, a high, pure soprano that seemed to wash the fatigue from Noël's body as he listened. But it wasn't the song that caught Noël's attention, nor even that the last cauchemar had also paused mid-attack, hand still outstretched towards the boy. No, what got the Santa's attention was the silver light twining around the boy, the cauchemar and even himself. Noël frowned, removed his monocle and rubbed the glass before replacing it on his nose. The light snapped back into existence as he peered through the glass. _This __light__… __it__'__s__…_

Why hadn't the monster grabbed him? Why wasn't anything happening? Chanson opened one of his eyes the merest crack and let out a cry of surprise at the huge fingers only a foot away from him. His cry broke the flow of the song; the absence of noise seemed to wake the cauchemar out of a dazed sleep. It shook its head like a dog trying to rid its ears of water and blinked in confusion. Large black eyes fell on the terrified boy and it seemed to remember why it was there. Another yelp escaped Chanson as the giant hand reached for him again.

"Crystal Neige!" yelled a voice, its owner hidden. The cauchemar screeched as ice shards crept up its body, freezing it into a massive ice crystal that reflected Chanson's dirty, scared face back at him a hundred, a thousand times before it dissolved into a flurry of falling snow.

Gasping in bewildered relief, Chanson leant back against the brick wall. _I __want __to __wake __up __now. __No __fever __dream__'__s __this __bad. __I __shoulda __never __left __home __this __mornin__'__!_

A white form strode through the falling snow, making Chanson squeak in fear and draw back before he recognised Noël. The blue-haired man brushed his fringe out of his eyes and stopped in front of Chanson with his hands on his hips. He still held that odd staff.

"Well?" Noël demanded, peering down at him. "Do you believe me _now_?"

"I – You –" Chanson had no idea how to respond to this. Minutes ago, he hadn't believed in monsters. Hadn't believed in magic. Was Noël telling the truth? _Could __it __be __true__…__?_ _If __it__'__s __not, __then __what __were __those __things?_

"They were cauchemar, like I've said a hundred times already," Noël snapped, having used up his store of patience for the day. Chanson jumped, startled, before realising he'd spoken his last thought aloud. He looked away, too confused and bewildered to say anything. Noël was also lost in thought as he stared down at the kid. _What __was __that __silver __light? __Is __that __why __they__'__re __after __him? __But __there __aren__'__t __any__more __successors __to __be __found__…_

"Exactly right, Santa-boy." The amused drawl echoed around the eerily-quiet alley. Noël stiffened and saw Chanson's eyes widen as he looked past Noël. He followed the boy's gaze, glancing over his shoulder.

On the roof behind them, lounging against a chimney – _Has __he __been __watching __the __entire __time?_ Noël wondered – was a humanoid cauchemar. That he was a cauchemar and not a human, Noël could tell from the man's odd clothes and the distinct aura emanating from him that all cauchemar possessed. And – the blue-haired man's lip curled – because he looked very, very similar to another cauchemar that Noël had once met. "Cornet?" he growled, hand tightening on his staff. _I __defeated __him __all __those __years __ago, __though__…__!_

The cauchemar chuckled, his mouth twisting in an ironic grin. "Not Cornet, Santa, although I'm sure he'd be honoured that you remember him." His smile widened at Noël's growl. "I'm someone different entirely."

"Who are you, then?" Noël retorted coolly, examining the newcomer. Short, dark red hair hung around a pale face that was mostly in shadow from where Noël stood. It was easier to make out the details of the cauchemar's outfit: a deep red shawl like the one Cornet had worn, a white shirt with sleeves gathered at the elbow with straps and long enough to reach his fingertips. Black trousers were gathered at the ankle with a gold ring so that they ballooned outwards, the spiky red pattern at the bottom reminiscent of a bon-bon. A long, bright red scarf tipped with two large bells that jingled when the cauchemar moved completed the image.

"Me? Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt to tell you." The red-clothed figure disappeared from the roof. Chanson's gasp of surprise had barely left his mouth when the stranger reappeared only a few feet away, balancing easily on an overturned barrel. He swept a bow like the actors that preformed at the winter festivals, a mocking smirk on his lips. "I happen to be Macaron. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Noël, Chanson."

Silver and blue eyes widened for exactly the same reason. _How __did __he__ –__?_ Chanson gaped. Noël regained composure faster. _He __probably __heard __me __calling __the __kid __by __name __and __it __isn__'__t __such __a __stretch __of __imagination __to __think __that __all __the __cauchemar __know __all __of __our __names __by __now __either. __Wait,__ '__Macaron__'__?_ "You're the one directing the cauchemar from before?"

That aggravating small amused smile on the cauchemar's face was still there as he straightened. This close, Noël could see that what he had thought to be shadow was in fact a wide black eye patch embossed with a golden snowflake covering Macaron's right eye, the straps passing under the dark red fringe. The iris of his other eye was a pure white, apparently its natural colour rather than blindness despite the two red scars that ran from the bottom corner of his eye down his cheek. "Indeed I am, Santa. Didn't you like my welcoming party? Well, it was for the boy rather than for you, but you looked like you were enjoying yourself." Malevolence gleamed in his visible eye as he smirked at Chanson on the ground behind Noël. "It seems you've certainly become stronger, boy."

"The hell do you know about anythin'?" Chanson growled. "I ain't ever met you, you weirdo!" He staggered back up to his feet, using the wall to stay up and keep weight off his injured ankle. "Just leave me alone!"

"Well, that's a shame," Macaron drawled. He tilted his head to the side, white eye flickering between Noël and Chanson and said no more.

_Geez, __so __we __have __t__' __drag __everythin__' __outta __him?_ Chanson growled silently. "What's a shame?"

The corner of Macaron's mouth twitched into that small smile once again, as though pleased Chanson had asked. _Or __that __he __took __the __bait_, Noël thought darkly, watching the red-haired cauchemar warily. _He__'__s __either __arrogant __or __quite __high __level __to __reveal __himself __so __blatantly __like __this._

"Why, that you want us to leave you alone," Macaron shrugged, disappearing. "We're only trying to save you, after all." Macaron's voice was right next to his ear this time, the cauchemar's breath tickling his cheek. Chanson jerked sideways with a yelp as Noël swung around. Macaron laughed and disappeared again, materialising over the barrel once more.

"Save me?" Chanson demanded, scrubbing his cheek in disgust. _Don__'__t __come __near __me; __don__'__t __touch __me, __you__ –__!_ "From what?"

"From your 'friend' there," Macaron replied, jerking his chin at Noël. "Him, and all the other Santa Clauses. They'll just use your power, Chanson. They don't care about you. Don't trust them. Come with me, and we'll look after you."

"Funny way you have of showing it," Chanson snapped back. "Why the 'ell would I want t' go with a bunch of – of freaks that attacked me, huh? Get lost!"

Macaron sighed. "Ah well, it was worth a try, in any case."

"Alright, why don't you cut the act and tell us what you really want?" Noël demanded. "I've never known cauchemar to care about the well-being of anyone, so I highly doubt it's that."

The cauchemar laughed, the bells on the end of his scarf jingling in tune as his shoulders shook. "True, Santa. Well, to tell the truth… what we really want is…" He smirked, that cold malevolence burning in his eyes as he pointed at Chanson. "Your voice, boy."

"Eh?" Chanson blinked, bewildered. _My__ … __voice? __Why? __How __could __they __even __get __something __like __that __anyway?_

Noël's eyes narrowed. _His __voice, __huh? __So __that __light _was _the __power __they__'__re __after__… __but __there__'__s __no __way __it __can __have __anything __to __do __with __the __Snowflake, __right?_ "Why would you want something like that?"

A look of mock innocence came across the cauchemar's face. "You mean you – a Santa Claus – don't know the value of this boy's voice? Huh. I think Klaus made a mistake in choosing his successors, if he picked _you_." Noël snarled wordlessly, anger breaking through his control. Macaron appeared to ignore him, but that tiny sardonic smile had returned. "Well, you can figure it out yourselves if you try hard, I'm sure… but by the time you do, Chanson's voice will be ours."

A wave of anger swept through the Santa and he leapt forward with a snarl, staff whistling down to slam into the cauchemar's skull –

– Or not.

Noël's staff sliced through the space where Macaron had been, smashing the barrel to tiny shards. Macaron's laughter echoed in the small space. They looked up to see the cauchemar floating in mid-air above them, ends of his scarf dangling down.

"You won't get your hands on him," Noël spat, silver eyes furious. _They__'__re __doing __it __again, __the __damn __cauchemar! __Not __this __time!_

"Ah, but I already have, Noël," Macaron laughed. "And the sad thing is that none of you realise it yet." He raised an eyebrow at the angry glares directed at him from below. "Besides, rather than be concerned with fighting me, shouldn't you be worrying about your friends instead?"

"What do you mean?" Chanson shouted as Macaron cackled. "Plague take you, what do you mean?"

Macaron merely swept them another mocking bow and faded, leaving only his laughter to echo in the narrow street. Chanson threw a snowball where the cauchemar had been in fury, watching it smash against the roof tiles. He rounded on Noël. "What did he mean?"

Noël was silent, frowning at the space where Macaron had been. His face went pale suddenly. "Pierre," he whispered. Silver eyes widened. "Chanson, hurry! We have to get back to the others!"

Chanson, having spied his knife half-buried in the snow had hobbled over to retrieve it. He froze at the blue-haired man's words. "They've gone after my friends as well?" the boy whispered.

"Can you run?" Noël asked, impatient to be gone. _Thank __god __I __told __Rudolph __to __stay __there __while __I __followed __this __kid! __But __even __so__…_

In response, Chanson merely turned and ran back the way they had come. "If I hafta!" he called over his shoulder and winced as his ankle protested such jarring treatment. Just as he stumbled and was about to fall, a hand grabbed him around the waist and he was hauled upwards. Chanson jerked, trying to get free as he thought of monsters and nightmares –

"Calm down, kid, it's just me," Noël's voice snapped from above. "We'll be faster if we go this way." Chanson squeaked as they leapt across the roofs and the world streamed past, covering his face a few times when he thought they wouldn't make it. Noël didn't seem to notice, although Chanson could see that the older man was starting to get tired, his breath coming in gasps.

_How __does__ '__e __know __where __t__' __go?_ Chanson wondered. _Most __out-towners __get __lost _in _the __streets, __let __alone _over _'__em. __Speakin__' __of __which__ – _"I got a bone t' pick with you," he announced as they landed on the edge of a long stretch of tiled roof.

"Can you pick it later? I'm busy," Noël replied absently, racing across the tiles so fast his feet were almost a blur. He had to be careful; he could only use this spell for short periods of time and besides, Chanson's weight was putting him off balance and he didn't want to miss his footing and slip.

"That wall at the end o' the alley. That was _you_, wasn't it?" Chanson accused. "There ain't been a wall there since before I was born!"

Landing with a grunt on the next set of roofs, Noël had to hide a smirk. _Well, __he__'__s __smarter __than __I __thought._ "Yeah, that was me. I wasn't gonna chase you across London if I didn't have to."

"Tch," was all the reply Chanson gave, falling silent with a scowl on his face. Noël had stopped paying attention to the conversation anyway; worry beginning to gnaw at his stomach uneasily. _Rudolph! __Pierre! __You __two __had __better __be __alright!_ So worried was the Santa that he didn't notice that he'd unconsciously included his old friend in his concern. The wind changed as he drew closer, blowing the stench of smoke and cauchemar into Noël's face. His nose wrinkled automatically, his eyes widening as he caught the copper tang of blood as well. _Damn__it! __I__'__m __only __a __few __more __streets __away!_

"Hang on!" he commanded; Chanson squeaked as they dropped almost two stories to the ground below, Noël landing as lightly as a cat. _How __is __he __doin__' __that?_ Chanson wondered. _There __ain__'__t __nothin__' __human __that __could __move __like __that!_ He fell into thoughtful silence. _Well,__ '__e __does __have __eyes __a __colour __no __man __I__'__ve __ever __seen __have__…_ The boy was jolted out of his thoughts as Noël set him on his feet and strode off without looking back, leaving Chanson to hobble quickly after him.

"Rudolph! Pierre!" called Noël. He rounded the corner to find chaos, or the remnants of chaos: scorched brick and wood, snow trampled and stained crimson and what looked like a crater over there –

And finally, two figures that stood warily at the base of a flight of stairs, blessedly alive. "Rudolph! Pierre!" He dashed towards them. As he got closer, he saw one of Pierre's arms was hanging loosely at his side, covered in blood; his other hand held a long-bladed and wickedly sharp knife that Pierre handled easily. _It __seems __I__'__m __not __the __only __one __who__'__s __learnt __new __tricks __over __the __past __few __years,_ Noël thought wryly.

"Salt!" Pierre's face was relieved under the dirt and scratches. "You're alright! What about Chanson? Is he with you?"

"'M here," Chanson muttered, coming up beside Noël. His eyes widened in astonishment as they focused on the knife Pierre was holding; his guardian noticed where his gaze was directed and lowered the knife, making it disappear. He moved forward as though to hug them both or at least to make sure they were both real, only to be stopped when Rudolph held out a hand in front of him. As Pierre looked at the silver-haired man questioningly, the Reindeer lifted the point of his sword to Noël's throat.

"The engraving on Yule's door?" the Reindeer asked, eyes narrowed.

"A music note," Noël replied. "A 'quaver', according to him, whatever that is."

Rudolph nodded and lowered his sword. "It's you."

"Of course it's me. But really, Rudolph, you'd be able to smell if I was a cauchemar in disguise," Noël replied, examining them both for injuries. Aside from Pierre's arm, miraculously the only major things they seem to have suffered were scratches.

"True," Rudolph said, sheathing his sword and stepping back to let Noël up the stairs. "But we can't rely on that always being the case, as I recall you saying. What about Chanson?"

Chanson gulped, thinking of that sharp blade at _his_ throat. Pierre patted him on the shoulder in comfort, moving forward slightly so he was between Rudolph and Chanson. Luckily, Noël replied before the boy's imagination could run away from him. "It's him. As for how I'm sure, I'll tell you inside. Rudolph, what happened here?" A hand waved at the damage in the street.

"I believe that is best told indoors also," the Reindeer sighed. "Pierre's arm and Chanson need medical attention as well."

Pierre rubbed his forehead wearily. "And I believe I would like to know what's going on all of a sudden."

_Wouldn__'__t __we __all_, Chanson though sourly, not realising that Noël thought the exact same thing.

_oOoOoOoOoOo_

"So, this Macaron is the one after Chanson?" Pierre asked, eyes following Noël as the other man paced around the kitchen. He winced suddenly as his arm stung like it was on fire; Marie murmured an apology as she continued to clean the deep wounds. Although it still looked worse than it was, Pierre wouldn't be using his arm for the next fortnight or so.

They were all gathered once again in the room where they ate in a strange replay of two days ago. This time, however, William was helping out by tending to Chanson's wounds.

"Kinda like old times, huh?" William joked. Only his eyes displayed the concern and sympathy he was feeling as he re-bandaged Chanson's ankle where the wound had broken open again. Chanson cracked a lopsided grin in reply, reaching out to ruffle Peel's hair as she looked on with equal worry.

"Big brother was in fight again?" she asked, eyes wide. "With monsters that came here too?"

"Yeah, but I didn't start it," Chanson told her. "Don't worry. Look, I'm all in one piece, see?" He poked himself gently in the arm to demonstrate and grinned, drawing a reluctant smile in reply from the young girl.

"Yeah," Noël replied to Pierre's earlier question. "But not just him. He's got a whole bunch of other cauchemar that seem to be working for him."

"Now that you mention it, there were a few cauchemar that hung back during the fight here," Rudolph said from where he leant on the kitchen bench. "Two of them, both high levels compared to the ones that actually took part in the fighting. They directed the others."

"One was blonde, male, and carried a scythe." Pierre's eyes were closed as he leant back in his chair, although whether to aid his memory or from the pain was unclear. "The other… purple clothes, silver hair … I think female. I'm not sure; most of the time I was just trying to stay alive."

"For someone unused to fighting cauchemar, you did well," Rudolph told him. Pierre flashed a grin at the Reindeer and shook his head, before turning to glance at Noël's pacing figure.

"Do you think they answer to Macaron as well?"

"It's hard to say." It was Rudolph who answered, the Reindeer looking unusually serious.

"So the – the … cauchemar? – the man that attacked Chanson on Christmas Eve," Marie spoke up suddenly, drawing everyone's attention. "Was he part of this too?"

"Mostly likely," Rudolph told her. "From what Noël says, both Macaron and Dacqx targeted Chanson specifically." Marie's mouth twisted down in worry, sadness tinging the brown eyes.

"It's more imperative than ever that Chanson come with us," Noël said, coming to an abrupt halt and pushing his monocle into a more comfortable position.

"Huh? By 'go with you'…" William asked, eyes wide as he paused in mid-bandage.

Chanson directed a scathing glare at the blue-haired man. "An' I told _you_, I ain't –"

"And what happens if they come back?" Noël demanded. "No, not if; _when_ they come back? Are you willing to risk your safety?"

"Don't care 'bout meself," the boy muttered sullenly.

Noël stepped closer, arms crossed as he stared down at Chanson. "Maybe not, but what about everyone around you? While the cauchemar are after you, _anyone_ close to you is in terrible danger. Are you willing to risk their lives? Do you want to make targets of them for monsters like that?"

Chanson dropped his eyes to the ground to avoid the unnerving silver gaze. In his mind's eye he saw the monsters – the _cauchemar_ – from the alley destroying his home, lightning like that which Dacqx had wielded blasting apart wood and burning flesh. He shook his head mutely as Noël, pressed on. "Those cauchemar in the alley didn't manage to get you only because I was there; only because Rudolph and Pierre were here was your family not hurt and – no offense, Pierre – I doubt that Pierre could have held them all off himself."

"How can I be offended at the truth? Rudolph was the one who really saved us all back there," Pierre agreed. "Thank you." Rudolph shook his head, waving off the man's thanks and also looked at Chanson, green eyes piercing and somehow not … human-like. Chanson shivered.

"Chanson, understand that since they failed this time, they _will_ return and in greater numbers than before." Green eyes held blue in a serious gaze. "Cauchemar do not give up. All of the Santas and Reindeer at the North Pole have fought cauchemar for a long time. If we can't keep you safe while we figure out how to stop them or what this power is of yours that they want, then no-one will be able to."

"There's no other way –" Noël began.

"No!"

The emphatic reply surprised them all, especially since it _hadn__'__t_ come from Chanson. William had jumped to his feet, fists clenched at his sides as he glared at both Noël and Rudolph. "No!" he repeated.

"Will…" Pierre said, unsure how to continue.

The blonde boy shook his head, strands of hair slapping his cheek gently. "Why does Chanson have to leave? Why should he have to go with you to some far away place? His home is _here_! Why can't he stay _here_?" Will protested in a raised voice. His fists were shaking slightly. "He's lived here for years before this; those monsters never came before. They only came when you turned up! Go away, and take the trouble you've brought with you!"

Chanson blinked at the tirade of angry words coming from his normally easy-going and quiet friend. Noël's fingers twitched, tapping against his arm in an irritable fashion before they stopped abruptly. The Santa Claus turned to face Will, directing that silver gaze at the younger boy. Will swallowed uneasily but continued to glare defiantly back at him. Noël sighed. "_We_ didn't bring them, kid. Chanson did. I don't know why they never came before, but obviously whatever power he has awoke recently and they sensed it."

"But –!" Will started to protest, cutting off when a hand touched his arm. He turned to look at Chanson behind him. The grey-haired boy shook his head slightly, gently, but when he spoke his words were addressed to Noël. "I'll go," he said quietly.

"Huh?" everyone but Rudolph and Peel asked blankly.

Chanson raised his voice to speak more clearly. "To the North Pole. I'll go. I don't believe I 'ave a 'power' that these cauchemar-things are after, but…" He looked down to the side, blue eyes somewhat sad. "But if it's endangerin' Will an' Peel an' everyone –!"

"Chanson…" The grey-haired youth looked up at his friend pleadingly.

"I don't want you t' get hurt 'cause o' me," he said softly. "Them cauchemar-things are _real_, Will. You and me 'ave both seen 'em."

"You _do _have a power, kid. Why else do you think the cauchemar are so focused on you? Why not give up and go for easier and more convenient prey?" A gloved finger tapped the side of the monocle he wore. "This is spelled to see magic, kid. Back in that alley, I saw the silver light of magic surrounding you at one point, and it wasn't mine or the cauchemars'. Moreover, I _felt_ it at least twice when your emotions ran wild." One hand was lifted in a half-shrug. "It's a power I've never seen before, but it _is_ a power and it _is_ why they're after you."

"He said they wanted my voice," Chanson whispered. At those words, Pierre's face grew sombre and he shared a glance with Noël and Rudolph, his uninjured hand coming to rest on the one Marie had placed on his arm. Will and Marie just looked horrified; Peel and the other two were too young to fully understand what was going on, but they caught the gravity in the room and were worried as well.

It was Noël who broke the sombre silence, brushing a sleeve as he turned towards Rudolph. "Well, that's settled then. We'll leave in the morning." His silver eyes swept over the room, seeking opposition to this plan. There was none.

_If only things could have been worked out that easily._

_Then all of this might have been avoided._

___oOoOoOoOoOo_

Chapter End

_oOoOoOoOoOo_

_**Next Time: **Chapter 4 – The Holly and the Ivy_

_His decision made, Chanson travels to the North Pole with Noël and Rudolph where he encounters unusual things and unusual people. However, his arrival is not appreciated by everyone who lives there. Nor has the cauchemar's gaze fallen from him despite Chanson being at the centre of their enemies' stronghold. What future awaits him? What do Macaron and the others want with his voice?_

_Like snowflakes that twirl in the winter breeze, their fates are no longer their own._

* * *

A/N: Ahh Pierre, no-one is buying the idea you and Marie are just friends :P Also, the spell-thing that chanson was singing is an actual spell I found somewhere to ward of nightmares (nightmares, cauchemar, get it? :D;;;) ...at bleast I think it is, but I don't remember where I found it or if I modified it orz

As always, thanks for reading~~! :D Updates are probably going to be slow, unfortunately :\


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